


Tell Me You're Strong

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I apologize in advance, M/M, Magic, Military, Newspapers, Small Towns, Summer Romance, Writer!Arthur, soldier!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's new job at the local newspaper in the tiny town of Albion was never in his life's plans.  However, when he meets an intriguing soldier named Merlin, he begins to realize that losing all control over his life wasn't always necessarily a bad thing. Except sometimes it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a dream, and from that dream came this story. It's a work in progress, my first in awhile, and I'm hoping to have frequent updates. And I will most definitely be finishing this one. Titled taken from the song 'Keep Your Eyes Open' by Needtobreathe. Hope you enjoy the story!

If, in the future, someone ever sat down and recorded his life story, Arthur desired for it to be made crystal clear that he never wanted to move to Albion in the first place. In fact, he protested against it, but his father’s mind was set and there was nothing that Arthur could possibly do to change it.

A man that had just graduated from university should not be reliant on his father to find him work. He should _not._ Unfortunately, Uther loved meddling in Arthur’s personal affairs, and when he heard that Arthur was having trouble finding a job with his worthless degree – journalism was _not_ worthless, thank you very much, it was a dying profession, but it’s worth was still plentiful – anyway, Uther had given a call to his old friend, Gaius, who apparently ran a newspaper in a small town no one had ever heard of…and, well, here Arthur was.

Stuck in a small town. With a shitty job with even shittier pay.

Like he said, he didn’t want to be there.

He glanced around the miniscule office, messy and cluttered with papers, the opposite of Arthur’s need for immaculateness. Gaius smiled at him from the doorway; Arthur had only spent a few minutes in his presence, a wringing of his hand and the short walk through a narrow hallway in one of the smallest buildings in town, but he seemed a decent enough type.

Which was just as well, if he was going to be Arthur’s boss until he could find another job, he had better well learn to appreciate him at least slightly.

“It’s not much,” Arthur tuned into Gaius’s crackly, wizened voice. “And my last employee was a bit of a slob, but I’m sure you’ll be able to fix it up to your liking.”

Arthur tried to keep his expression schooled; just because he had gotten everything he ever asked for in all his life didn’t mean that he couldn’t handle rejection and less than adequate workspaces like a perfect gentlemen. “I’m sure. Thank you very much.”

“Not a problem, my boy,” Gaius said. Arthur shifted a bit uncomfortably as he set his briefcase down next to the desk. “How about I introduce you to Guinevere and Leon? Gwen’s our only other writer; Leon’s our photographer.”

The thought that Arthur was working at such a tiny place was almost suffocating. He should be working in London, goddammit, or at least someplace semi inhabitable! He had sent in an application to Camelot Times, which would have been _perfect_ – but he doubted he could get even an internship there. His answer was still pending, though.

In the meantime, it looked like he was to be stuck here. In the middle of nowhere.

It was going to be miserable, he was certain.

But he forced himself to smile, and hoped his voice didn’t contain too much bitterness. “Sure, I’d love to meet them.”

Gaius led him out of the room and down the other side of the hall, opening the door labeled with “Staff Room.” Arthur, trying to contain a sigh, headed inside to confront his new coworkers.

Gwen, or Guinevere Grace, it turned out, was a beaming, bubbly young girl of no older than twenty-one. She hardly looked professional in her blue tank top and cutoff jeans, and Arthur, with his button down shirt, suddenly felt very out of place.

Leon Cartwright was no better; a very tall man with wild ginger hair and a beard to match, he was dressed similarly to Gwen in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and beat up trainers. He greeted Arthur with a smile and a shake of his hand, welcoming him warmly. “It’s great to meet you, Arthur. It’s been quite lonely around the office sent Val quit.”

“Val was a bastard, Leon, we don’t miss him in the slightest,” Gwen laughed, swatting Leon’s arm. “It is lovely to have you here, Arthur.  I know we’ll be the best of friends.”

Arthur itched to correct her, saying that he was only here for as short a time span as he could muster, and that friendship wasn’t exactly going to be his first priority, but that would have been rude. Instead, he just smiled tightly. “I’m sure.”

“Gaius,” Gwen suddenly said, as if struck by an idea. “Why don’t I take Arthur on a tour of the town? If he’s to be out on assignments, he should at least know where he’s going.”

“I have a map!” Arthur felt the need to protest. He had used said map to navigate himself from his London flat to the tiny cottage about a mile outside of town that he had found while researching cheap homes online; it was decent enough, but it looked like it hadn’t been lived in since the late eighteen hundreds; he hadn’t even unpacked his things yet, as he had only arrived the night before, and this morning, he headed immediately into the small, picturesque, lakeside town and to this tiny building just off the main street.

“Trust me, you need a proper tour,” Gwen said, Leon nodding in affirmation.

“She’s right,” he said. “It’ll be much more useful in the long run.”

“That should be fine,” Gaius said from next to the coffee machine on the far side of the room, where he had just started to brew a cup. “I wasn’t going to give him an assignment until tomorrow, anyway, just let him familiarize himself with the place.”

“Perfect!” Gwen’s grin was near blinding, and Arthur had to blink a few times to shield himself from the frankly frightening effect. “We can leave right now.”

Arthur found himself being gestured out of the door, and he begrudgingly followed his new coworkers out into the bright morning sunshine.

The town was full and bustling; it was summertime, and this was the definition of a tourist trap. There was only one main street, with many shops running up and down its sides, nooks and crannies galore. A small square lay just off of the street, and from there, the town tapered off into a few housing areas until it eventually faded into nothingness.

At least, that’s what Arthur saw when he looked at it. Judging by both Gwen and Leon’s fond smiles as they surveyed the area, their view was quite different.

“C’mon,” Leon said as he started heading down one side of the crowded street. “We’ll go to Freya’s.”

Arthur was tempted to ask who Freya was, but Leon and Gwen were already heading off down the street, Gwen throwing a hand out behind her to wave Arthur along. Sighing, he fell into step behind them.

Gwen kept up a running chatter as they passed each store, which was slightly annoying, but also a bit endearing. “Over there, that’s Aithusa, the boutique, although I doubt you’ll have too much interest in that, and next to it is Dragon’s Den, your regular tourist crap trap, then you’ve got Monmouth Books and Mercia Café, which we don’t like because it’s a competitor with Freya’s…Freya is one of our best friends, by the way, she owns the greatest little coffee place.”

“Alright,” Arthur replied, a bit bemused as he listened to the ramblings as they continued on. Gwen gesticulated wildly at each building they passed; most of them seemed to be junky tourist places he had expected, but there was a seedy looking bar called The Fallen Kings that he had a feeling would be a frequently visited place and two different motels that looked like they’d seen better days.

“And here we are,” Leon interrupted Gwen, but with a fondness in his tone. Arthur wondered vaguely if they were together, for they certainly functioned like a couple. Arthur glanced to the building on his right; it wasn’t unlike any other on the street, the brick building with a colorful sign proclaiming it simply as “Freya’s”.

“Come on in, we’ll introduce you to everyone,” Gwen said as Leon pulled upon the door for her. Arthur followed, letting Leon pass through before him. He didn’t necessarily want to be forced through introductions, but nothing in his life was overly fair right now.

Like with the Borg, resistance was futile.

The indoors of the coffee shop was airy and light, the walls painted in light colors, windows positioned just so to let sunlight stream in. There were a few tables scattered across the linoleum floor, customers seated at a couple of them, with a long counter against the back wall. The girl behind it was short and slight, dark hair put up in a messy bun. Her face split into a smile as she saw her visitors.

“Gwen, Leon!” Her cheery voice rang out. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“We’re on the clock,” Leon greeted her as he strode across the room to lean against the counter next to a shelf of pastries that looked absolutely mouth-watering. “Giving Gaius’s newest hire a tour. This is Arthur.”

“Hi, Arthur, I’m Freya!” Arthur reached across Leon to shake her hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip, and she dimpled up at him. “So you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, I just got here yesterday, actually –” Arthur began, but was caught off by a figure strolling out of a door behind the counter.

“What’s going on, Frey?” Arthur’s eyes snapped up to the man’s as he leaned against the corner parallel to Leon on the other side. He was tall and slim, with scruffy dark hair and light stubble, a small smile on his face as he surveyed the group. His electric eyes fell on Arthur’s with a mixture of curiosity and also a touch of wariness.

“This is Arthur,” she said, pointing to him. Arthur lifted a hand in greeting. “Gaius just hired him to fill Val’s old spot.”

“Excellent, I was going to come by this afternoon to meet you,” the man said, voice low and melodic. Apparently Arthur looked confused, for he clarified himself. “Gaius is my godfather. I’m staying with him for the summer. I’m Merlin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Arthur replied and was surprised to find he meant it. “Looks like I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

“Not as much as you’ll be seeing Leon,” Merlin nodded in the ginger man’s direction. “He’ll take turns following you and Gwen around and snapping photographs of anything he finds even remotely interesting. Even if it’s a bug in a tree. Especially if it’s a bug in a tree.”

“Oi!” Leon laughed, swiping his hand toward Merlin, who ducked out of the way with a grin toward Arthur that he returned with a thrum of something moving within his veins, an unknown entity. “Just because you’ve been gone for the past year doesn’t mean that I will now change my ways and enjoy your compulsive need to insult me.”

“Admit it, you missed my insults like crazy,” Merlin’s grinned, but Arthur was focused on the comment about Merlin’s absence. Had he been at university? He looked about Arthur’s age, but Arthur had only just graduated the previous spring, so he could have easily been away at school. Still, there was something off about him, something that made him think that wasn’t quite the answer.

And since Arthur had never been a tactile person, his bluntness got the best of him. “Where were you?”

Merlin’s grin became rather fixed. “Military. I’m on leave right now. I’m back on duty in September.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he suddenly took in Merlin in a whole new light. The frayed jeans and faded grey t-shirt could have belonged to anyone, but the previously unnoticed circular dog tags hanging from his neck decidedly could not. There was also hardness to his features that Arthur had only just taken into account; it was an unnamable thing, but an obvious one. He was someone who had seen things.

Arthur didn’t quite know how to reply. “…So how long have you been back in Albion, then?”

Merlin shrugged. “A week or so. It looks like we’re both the new kids around here.”

“You’ve never been a new kid!” Freya shoved him lightly with her hip. “Now get in back, I need my damn coffee maker working within the next five minutes.”

“Yes, m’lady,” was the cheeky response. As he backed into the door, Merlin said “Leon, bring Arthur down to the pub later tonight. We must induct him into our league of superheroes.”

“Superheroes?” Arthur turned to Leon.

“A childhood joke,” Leon said with a chuckle as Merlin slid out of their view and into what Arthur presumed was the back room without so much as a goodbye. “I’m not allowed to explain it alone. Don’t feel pressured to come if you don’t want to, by the way. Merlin just likes adopting everyone he comes across as one of his own.”

“Oh, c’mon, Leon, don’t make Arthur feel like he’s one of the masses,” Gwen said, leaning into Leon’s side, only furthering Arthur’s belief that they were together. “He likes people, but he has to see a certain spark in them if he’s going to induct them into his league. It’s nice to see that he hasn’t changed too much.”

Her tone dropped from a cheerful one to something a little more bittersweet, and Arthur almost felt like he was intruding on something private, which was ridiculous, of course.

“I’ll come, sounds like a good time,” Arthur said, surprising himself slightly. He definitely hadn’t planned on making friends with his coworkers and their league of superheroes, whatever that meant, but there was a part of him that was scrambling for an opportunity to be a part of something, of this right here.

He didn’t know what the part was, what it was doing there, or why he was listening to it; he just knew that the feeling was new, different, and could not be ignored.

This he would soon refer to as mistake number one.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in two days? Wow, I must have a shitload of inspiration. Schedule might start getting hectic soon, though, so apologies for any updates that take a longer length of time. Hope you enjoy!

Arthur entered the Fallen Kings around six, Leon and Gwen on either side of him. He hadn’t done much in the way of actual work that day; it was more of an introduction phase. Gaius had given him instructions on their usual ordering and formatting of the paper so that when Arthur sat down to write tomorrow, he’d know exactly what was expected of him.

So it wasn’t really a wasted day, even though it kind of felt like it, at least in the lieu of actual accomplishments.

Nearly the moment after Gaius told Arthur he could head home for the day, Gwen had appeared at his shoulder, beckoning him out of the office and toward the pub. Arthur wasn’t going to complain; he had agreed to this, after all, and he was also in desperate need of a drink.

Which was what led him into his current situation, for upon his first step into the shabby and horribly decorated bar, he heard Freya’s voice call “Over here!” from what looked like the only occupied table in the place. There wasn’t even someone working at the vacant bar. The table was crowded, though; well, there were two people that Arthur didn’t know seated there, which counted as crowded to him. The strangers were accompanying Freya and Merlin, the latter of which tilted back in his chair, a drink in hand, as he flashed an approaching Arthur a wide smile.

Arthur had no choice but to head over, pulling out a chair next to one of the strangers and across from Merlin’s Colgate teeth. “Hi,” he said in his most charming voice, the one he reserved for dealing with the most difficult of people and impossible of situations. He held a hand out to a man with shaggy brown hair and tattoos littering his bare forearms. “I’m Arthur.”

“Gwaine,” the man introduced himself, shaking Arthur’s outstretched hand. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“He means the pub,” Leon said as he slid into the chair next to Merlin, Gwen following his cue. “He owns this dump.”

“You watch what you say about my baby,” Gwaine shook his finger threateningly at Leon, but it was in a mocking tone. “She might get her feelings hurt.”

“Her?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a boat, now.”

“He thinks that calling it a her makes him sound more professional and dedicated to his work,” said the other stranger, a handsome man with dark hair, tanned skin, and an easy smile. He was seated next to Freya, loosely entwining his fingers with hers. Huh. “Blatant lies. I’m Lance, by the way, good to meet you. Merlin and Freya have just been telling me about you.”

“Yep,” Merlin nodded. “I’ve been saying how Gaius has _finally_ gained decent taste in employees.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, a bit touched. Despite Merlin’s invitation, he hadn’t really felt like he’d made too much of an impression on him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Merlin said, sipping on his drink, which reminded Arthur on what level he desired alcohol coursing through his bloodstream.

Apparently Merlin had read his mind, for a second later, he said, “Gwaine, go do your job. You’ve got three drink-less customers here – a true travesty. I expected better of you.”

Gwaine jumped to his feet. “Coming right up! Pints all around?”

Gwen and Leon confirmed the order, and Arthur nodded along with them, although he would have preferred something a tad stronger.

When Gwaine arrived back at the table, sliding each of them their drinks, Arthur thought it prudent to ask “So what’s this league of superheroes?”

Lance looked up at him, eyes registering surprise as Gwaine gave a slightly alarming whoop of victory. “Who invited you to join? Leon?”

“Nope,” Leon shook his head as he took a sip of his pint. “This one’s all Merlin.”

“What can I say?” Merlin shrugged his shoulders, a ghost of a grin dancing on his lips. “I could feel destiny calling.”

Arthur, understandably, was confused. “What?”

Freya took pity on him. “The league of superheroes is something these morons created a few years back. Basically, they gave each other superhero names and refer to themselves as such whenever possible. Since then, Gwen, Leon, and I have all been inducted into it, and therefore, are trapped and can never leave. The same thing will happen to you if you don’t watch yourself. Run away, Arthur. Run very far away lest you remain here for all eternity.”

Arthur really should have listened to her. He really should have. His life would have been so much easier if he would have just listened to her.

But he just laughed, because like it or not, Merlin was right. Destiny was calling Arthur’s name. More like screaming, but the point remained. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“I so hoped you would say that,” Gwaine rubbed his hands together in excitement. “So, my young Padawan learner, you shall now learn the story of how our league came to be.”

“Freya just told me –” Arthur started, but was shushed by Gwen.

“They have a speech,” Gwen told him. “They get very upset if they can’t do the speech.”

“It’s true,” Lance said, Merlin nodding seriously in agreement. “The speech is the best part.”

Arthur smiled in spite of himself as Gwaine continued on in a loud and booming voice, most likely for dramatic effect. “Once upon a time, when we were cleaning out Lance’s basement before he and Merlin abandoned me for fighting on behalf of this country like the heroic sops they are…”

“Thank you, thank you,” Lance dipped his head as if bowing, and it was only then that Arthur noticed the dog tags hanging from his neck as well, a direct mirror to Merlin’s.

“And we found his old comic books, buried somewhere in the recesses of his closet,” Merlin picked up from where Gwaine left off, his eyes going bright. “And thus began a deep, philosophical conversation about each superhero and their merits.”

“And most importantly,” Lance slid seamlessly into the speech, as if it had been rehearsed dozens of times. “The superhero each of us would be if we were sent into one of these universes.”

“And a legend was born,” Gwaine declared. “Since that day, I have been known solely as Iron Man.”

“Because he is an arrogant yet lovable brat,” Merlin interjected, teasing lightly. “And I am Wolverine.”

“A military man through and through, whose claws come out when he gets angry,” Lance grinned fondly at Merlin, who rolled his eyes at the description. It intrigued Arthur, and part of him wanted to see this alleged anger, because the face in front of him that hadn’t stopped smiling all night didn’t seem the type. “And I am Captain America, despite that I am neither American nor a captain.”

“But you’re a soldier with a heart of gold!” Gwaine put a hand to his own heart to illustrate his point. “Anyway, since then, I invited Leon to join our escapade…”

“I’m the Hulk,” Leon slid into the speech. “Because, according to these tossers, I’m the nicest person in the world until you piss me off.”

“It’s why we get along so famously,” Merlin said, reached a hand over to ruffle Leon’s already bush-like hair. Leon brushed him off with a laugh and an attempted swat that Merlin dodged.

“And then Merlin gave Gwen the honor of becoming our first female member,” Lance started up again.

“I’m Wonder Woman,” Gwen grinned. “Because any group of superheroes is incomplete without her.”

“After that, Lance abandoned us all and got a girlfriend,” Gwaine scoffed while Freya flipped him the bird, confirming Arthur’s suspicion that Freya was this girlfriend. “But she ended up being a fucking badass, so we accepted her into the league.”

“Meet my alter ego, Mystique,” Freya leaned across the table to inform Arthur of this obviously important piece of knowledge. “You’ll never see me coming.”

“It really says a lot about her that she’s the only one of us that’s technically considered a villain,” Gwaine began to muse, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Freya kick the man’s shin and Arthur had to hold in a laugh at Gwaine’s look of utter pain and Freya’s delight at having caused it.

“Shut up, Mystique is incredible,” she declared. “Oh, and don’t forget Gaius.”

“Gaius?” Arthur was only a bit shocked. It was hard to imagine the elderly, doddering, grandfatherly man as one who would partake in such a childish, albeit hilarious, game.

“He’s an honorary member. Professor X,” Merlin clarified. “We informed him that he was a part of our league, and he just gave us the Eyebrow. We made him a member anyway.”

“The Eyebrow?” Arthur had to ask.

“You’ll become very familiar with the Eyebrow under his employment,” Gwen said, Leon nodding along with her.

“I’ve been familiar with it since I moved in with Gaius when I was ten,” Merlin said. Arthur was sure there was a story there, but a very personal one, not the type he could ask about. Instead, he took a sip another of his drink. “It’s a fearsome beast.”

“Basically, he just raises one of his eyebrows at you,” Freya rolled her eyes at the overdramatic antics. “It’s not as bad as they make it out to be.”

“Then you go work for him!” Leon said at the same time as Merlin shivered, “Say that when you get home at two o’clock in the morning when you’re sixteen, covered in mud with streamers in your hair.”

Arthur choked on his drink. There was _definitely_ a story behind that one.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to hear the tale that night, for Merlin immediately changed the subject, his body shifting toward Arthur with a slowly forming smirk. “So which superhero will you be, Arthur? I wonder…”

Arthur felt a bit uncomfortable with five different pairs of eyes scrutinizing him, evaluating him. He had never liked being under judgment’s eyes, but this didn’t exactly feel like judgment. It was different, in a way. But everything about Albion had been different so far, so he wasn’t going to question it. He was beginning to realize that his expectations of the town were slowly dissipating into nothingness.

“He could be Thor,” Gwen suggested after a beat of silence. “He’s all blonde and muscle-y.”

“….Thank you,” Arthur said, forehead creasing. “I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Gwen replied cheerfully as Leon slung an arm around her shoulder in a seemingly protective, passive-aggressive way. If they weren’t together, someone should really lock them in a cramped closet together so that they could sort out their glaringly obvious sexual tension.

“Would about Magneto?” Gwaine said. “We’ve always wanted a Magneto.”

“Arthur is _not_ Magneto, Gwaine,” Merlin shook his head emphatically and Arthur found himself in agreement. “He’s…Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?” Lance tilted his head. “I can see it.”

“He was always my favorite when I was a kid,” Arthur said, thinking back to his childhood days. He hadn’t read many comics due to his strict upbringing, but he remembered buying them from the drugstore sometimes. He had always liked the idea of a secret identity where he saved the world, but as an adult, he figured out that he could never handle doing heroic deeds without even an ounce of credit.

It would take someone of extraordinary strength of character to do something like that.

But that didn’t change the fact that he had always adored Spiderman.

“Just one final test,” Merlin said, absentmindedly playing with one of the tags slung around his neck. “Are your Spidey senses tingling?”

“My Spidey senses are telling me that you’re an idiot,” Arthur deadpanned. He winced internally; calling someone he’d only just met that day insulting names was not a way to go about forming friendships. And, try as he might to stop it, he loved this right here, the silly superheroes and childish banter. It was something he missed, something he hadn’t had in years. And Merlin just might be his favorite part of it.

Merlin, however, wasn’t offended in the slightest. Instead, he let out an open-mouthed laugh, his face nearly splitting in two with a beaming smile. “I like him. Can I keep him?”

As he raised his drink to his lips with a grin, Arthur found that he really didn’t mind the idea at all. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Also, this is mainly unedited, so I apologize for any typos. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Spidey.”

Arthur looked up from his blurry laptop screen where he had been typing away diligently. Gaius was starting him of simple, with a couple of routine articles about the beginning of the tourist season. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was only day two of many. Well, hopefully not too many if he got that position at Camelot.

However, nearly the moment he started on the document, the office door had opened without so much as a knock, revealing Merlin leaning against the doorframe almost lazily as he smiled over at Arthur.

“Hello, Merlin,” he greeted him before quickly hacking down another couple of sentences that had sprung to his mind.

“Oh, c’mon, no Wolverine?” Merlin teased lightly as he strode fully into the room, pulling out the only other chair in Arthur’s office, a rickety black spindly thing, and plopping himself opposite him.

Arthur regarded him skeptically as Merlin kicked his feet up onto Arthur’s already too small desk without the addition of old and worn trainers. “I’m finding it hard to believe that the army would accept you,” he said, taking note of the man’s frankly horrible posture. “Aren’t you supposed to stand up straight and say 'Sir, yes, sir?’”

He lifted a hand up in a salute to make his point.

“I’ll leave that to Lancelot,” Merlin said with a brush of his hand. “He’s the model soldier here – Cap. I’m the rebel – Wolverine. See, we actually do think these things through properly.”

“Sure,” Arthur rolled his eyes, but his grin betrayed him. “So what are you doing here?”

“Gaius called me to come and fix the printer,” Merlin replied. “I don’t technically have a job, but I think everyone in town has dialed me up at least once to ask me to fix something of theirs that’s broken. I’m kind of amazing at coaxing electronics back to life.”

Arthur recalled that Merlin’s being in Freya’s shop yesterday was for the distinct purpose of fixing the coffee machine and chuckled slightly to his own self. He thought of his own barely lived in house and how he had woken up at two in the morning, shivering and freezing out of his skin. “Don’t suppose you could take a look at my radiator, do you?”

It was a semi-joking tone, but Merlin’s answer was serious. “Sure. What time do you get off?”

* * *

 

“Whoa, nice place,” was Merlin’s first comment upon entering Arthur’s tiny cottage. After Arthur had left the office, Merlin had followed him home in an old, beat up pick-up truck, a direct contrast to Arthur’s slick and shiny Prius, a gift on his twenty-first birthday. They had arrived, and Merlin wolf-whistled as he slid out of the driver’s seat and came to stand next to Arthur.

“Not really,” Arthur said. His flat throughout university had been nicer, although he wasn’t going to say that.

“For Albion, this is great,” Merlin’s eyes flickered up and down the small, very nearly circular white building. He turned to Arthur with a lazy smile. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

Arthur rolled his eyes fondly. “What are you, a vampire? I thought you were a superhero.”

The comment earned him a beam, Merlin’s blue eyes twinkling over at him as if Arthur was the best sight he’d ever taken in. Arthur’s heart warmed inexplicably. “For all you know, I could be a vampire superhero.”

“If you’re a vampire superhero, I’m definitely not inviting you inside,” The banter rolled easily off of his tongue. But Merlin just looked at him with a knowing smirk until he finally sighed and decided to let Merlin’s childlike sense of humor take ahold of him. “Would you like to come inside, Merlin?”

“I would love to, Arthur,” Merlin’s cheek was overwhelming as Arthur led him across the small stone path leading up to the front door. He opened it, letting Merlin in first before entering himself. The cottage wasn’t much at all; just a sparsely decorated main room with an adjoining kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom off in a tiny hallway. It wasn’t fancy, but it was good enough for now. Merlin’s eyes seemed to light up when he glanced around, though. He turned back to Arthur.

“I like it here,” he said appreciatively. “The windows let in the light. And that’s a gorgeous view of the lake.”

There were two large windows over between the kitchen and the living room, but Arthur had barely glanced at them, let alone looked at the view. He knew that there was a lake out behind him, but only because he had seen a couple of fisherman go out on in this morning when he left for work.

Now that Merlin mentioned it, though, he did see that the sunlight was pouring through at a very distinct angle that made the house appear much prettier and fuller of life than he thought it was before.

“Thanks,” he said before deciding to tackle the reason why Merlin was actually here. “So, the radiator?”

“Of course,” Merlin said. “You’ve got tools, right?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I’m not totally inept.”

“And yet here I am, fixing your problems for you,” Merlin spread his arms out and Arthur stepped toward him, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“Shut up. I could fix it on my own, but why should I when I can take advantage of the local expert?”

“I thought I was here to help –” Merlin cut himself off, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. “Oh, right. Local expert means me.”

Arthur let out an opened mouth laugh. “I was right, you are an idiot!”

“Oi!” Merlin probably meant to sound threatening, but he was blushing too much for Arthur to take him seriously. “This is no way to treat someone who’s going to fix your radiator for free.”

“I can pay you if it means I can insult you,” Arthur teased as he gestured Merlin toward the radiator, which was located right under the window with the view Merlin so much enjoyed. Arthur took the opportunity to take a glance outside; it was a nice picture, green and bright with the summertime sun, the crystal lake sparkling in the short distance.

“No thanks,” Merlin knelt down next the machine, examining it for a moment before gesturing upwards and out the window. “Have you been out on the lake yet?”

“I moved here a grand total of three days ago,” Arthur replied, leaning against the wall next to where Merlin worked. “I haven’t exactly had the time.”

“If you’re not busy, I’ll take you out this weekend,” Merlin said. “I’ve got an old fishing boat from when I was a kid.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur was slightly uncomfortable. Merlin was commandeering his life here, and yet he did it in such a way that it felt like it was all Arthur’s choice, that Arthur could stop him at any time. “I’ve never actually…well, I’ve never actually been out on a boat before.”

“What?” Merlin stood up fully, taller than Arthur again, his eyebrows disappearing behind his overgrown bangs. “Never?”

“I’ve always lived in London, and my dad was never into that stuff when I was a kid,” Arthur shrugged uncomfortably, not liking to mention his father. It was a wonder he even made the comment at all. “So I’ve never exactly had an opportunity to before.”

“That settles it,” Merlin declared. “You and I, Saturday after you’re finished at work. I’ll meet you out here and we will go out on the boat and you will enjoy it and it will be etched in your memory for all eternity and you will thank me profusely for granting you such a wonderful experience.”

“And you really think those expectations will be lived up to?” Arthur’s tone was light, but he was touched by the sentiment of someone he had only just met wanting to do something special for him. He hadn’t had that happen since…well, ever.

“I know they will,” Merlin said. “It’s a certainty. Fact of your existence, starting Saturday. Now get me some pliers.”

* * *

 

When Arthur casually mentioned to Gwen the next day, at the lone coffee machine in the building, that he and Merlin had plans for Saturday, she failed dismally at hiding a grin and said “Wow. He must _really_ like you.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, because he was confused and possibly a bit slow when it came to things like feelings and emotions.

“I’m just saying that it’s been a couple of years since Merlin has been in a serious relationship,” Gwen said and Arthur spluttered and choked on the glass of hot liquid he had just raised to his lips. “At least since he joined the army, and that was when he was twenty. It’s nice to see him taking an interest, is all.”

“That’s not –” Arthur protested, but it was half-hearted. “We aren’t –”

“No need to explain,” Gwen shook her head readily as she turned away in the direction of her own office, just across the hall from Arthur’s. “I’m just happy for the both of you. I hope it works out.”

“There’s nothing to work out!” Arthur called after her retreating back, but she had already disappeared. He sighed and took a long swig of coffee. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything. Was it? Merlin had never explicitly stated it either way. Was it expected to be a date?

Arthur wasn’t sure what he wanted. Merlin was charismatic and hilarious and warmed Arthur’s heart in such a way that was so different and so much more terrifying than what he was used to, and the idea of more than friendship with him had put him into semi-crisis mode…so maybe. Maybe.

“Arthur, do you have the article typed up yet on the possible school being built?” Gaius called from the editor’s office in the adjoining room. Arthur cursed under his breath and, grabbing his mug of coffee, hightailing it back to his own office.

There was actual work to be done.

* * *

 

“When you said boat, I did not think of a _canoe._ Honestly, Merlin, a _canoe_?”

“Canoes are boats, too. And it is a lovely canoe. Do not insult her.”

“Her? Are we turning into Gwaine now?”

“Prolonged exposure to him and his ways has created a few interesting character traits.”

“Dear Lord, help us all.”

Merlin laughed, teeth glinting in the afternoon sun, and Arthur chuckled along with him. When Merlin had shown up at his front door with a canoe tied down to the back of his truck, he had been a bit skeptical. But now that they had lugged out to the clear blue lake, nearly devoid of all other patrons, just a couple of older men fishing out by the shore, Arthur was starting to enjoy himself.

Even if he was being forced into rowing.

He made his dissatisfaction known. “Why am I the one rowing when it’s your canoe?”

“I’m rowing, too, prat,” Merlin rolled his eyes from the opposite end of the vessel. They were facing one another, and Arthur occasionally had to squint, the sun bright in his eyes. Or maybe that was just the effect Merlin had on people.

 “But _I’m_ doing all the work,” Arthur pushed hard against the oars for a fraction of a second to prove his point. The canoe moved accordingly and Merlin simply gave him a knowing look from his end of the boat, leaning against his own oars, not pushing in the slightest. “See?”

“I see nothing,” Merlin quirked an eyebrow.

“You have very selective sight, then,” Arthur quipped back. “You see only the things you want to see.”

“Explains why I’m looking at you,” Merlin said after a second. Arthur gave a start, because that was definitely flirting. Blatant flirting. There was no question.

“I _am_ a wonder to gaze upon,” Arthur decided the best course of action was to make this mutual. Whatever this was. He still wasn’t entirely sure.

“Keep telling yourself that, Spidey,” Merlin lifted his hand down in the water, lifting it up to flick water across the boat and onto Arthur’s face.

“Hey!” Arthur shouted, reaching a hand to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks. “You asked for it, Wolverine.”

Merlin’s alarmingly large grin at the use of the nickname was wiped off of his face a moment later when Arthur scooped up an entire handful of water and threw it across the distance between them. A mischievous smirk took its place as Merlin let go if his oar completely, both hands now on either side of the narrow boat, each of poised to attack.

Arthur wasn’t sure what exactly happened next, other than a plethora of splashing, a few war cries, and before he knew it, the canoe had flipped over and he was plunged into freezing, mind numbing temperatures. He panicked for a second under the water before bobbing up, wet and spluttering, Merlin’s head appearing a few feet from his less than an instant later.

“This is your fault,” Merlin said, although his voice was amused. “Very much your fault.”

“You were the one that started it!” Arthur protested, but he was laughing so hard that not even a two year old would have taken it seriously. Merlin was laughing along with him, and even though Arthur was nearly fully submerged in icy liquid, it was still the best moment he’d experienced in ages.

It took them nearly half an hour to get themselves to flip the canoe over and climb back in, row to shore, and head back to Arthur’s cottage for heating and a change of clothes. Arthur had given Merlin a sweatshirt of his, which was far too large on his skinny frame but in Arthur’s humble opinion, looked perfect on him.

Getting them both mugs of tea as Merlin made himself at home on Arthur’s couch, he called “Well, your goal of getting me to remember that experience forever was definitely accomplished.”

“See?” Merlin said as Arthur strode back into the room, handing him a cup of steaming liquid as he settled in on the coach as well, and his body parallel to Merlin’s own. “What did I tell you, Spidey? It was brilliant, wasn’t it?”

 “Brilliant?” Arthur scoffed, shoving Merlin’s feet lightly with his own. “Not so much. I said unforgettable. You _did_ dunk me in the lake.”

“But you had fun,” Merlin said it not as a question, but as a statement, as if he already knew this fact and was just confirming it. Arthur didn’t grace it with a response, just a smile.

“…Thanks, Wolverine. For today.”

“You’re welcome, Spiderman.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This one's a bit shorter than the others, but hey, lookie at the pretty plot development! Hope you enjoy.

“So how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Arthur sighed. He should have figured that Gwen’s enthusiasm about his Saturday spent with Merlin would be equaled only be Leon’s, who gave him a beaming grin when he arrived at work early Monday morning. The two were scarily similar, what with their curly hair and really fucking nice personalities, and if they weren’t together, Arthur was going to eat his stapler.

Leon’s smile was undeterred by Arthur’s short and stifled commentary. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” _No._

He really wasn’t at all sure. There was some definite flirting, he was almost positive of that, but had Merlin expected a date? They hadn’t shagged or anything, they hadn’t even kissed, so if it was a date, it was a rather shitty one. If they were hanging out as two friends who just happened to be attracted to each other, it had been phenomenal.

Leon, apparently, didn’t believe his blatant lies. Damn him. “Whatever you say, Arthur, whatever you say.”

When, five minutes later, Gwen burst into his office unannounced, bouncing toward Arthur saying, “How was your date?” Arthur resisted the urge to slam his head repeatedly against his wooden desk.

* * *

 

That night, there were once again drinks at the Fallen Kings with what Arthur was beginning to dub “The Usual Crowd.” Oh, dear God, he was transforming into one of them. This was not in the plans at all.

Merlin gave him a large grin when Arthur purposefully chose the seat next to his; he slid him a pint that Arthur drank eagerly from. Everyone seemed to have beaten him there except for Freya, who appeared to be the topic of conversation.

“I’m just saying, don’t buy her a ring now –” Leon said to Lance slowly, as if he was explaining something to a very small child. Lance nodded along diligently, memorizing every word.

Gwaine interrupted him, though, with a cry of “Oh, for fuck’s sake! We all know you’re going to propose, even _she_ knows, so just get it over with before you leave again, that way she can tell a romantic story about her soldier fiancé instead of her soldier boyfriend and you can marry her when you get back.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin, who was watching the banter like a tennis match until he turned back to Arthur and murmured under Gwaine’s words. “Lance is trying to decide whether or not he should wait until we get back from Afghanistan to propose to Frey.”

“Picked up on that, funnily enough,” Arthur whispered back and Merlin smiled as the conversation continued around them.

“All I’m saying is that it’s better to wait,” Leon said, holding up his hands in defense as Gwaine and Gwen berated his poor choice in stance on the matter. “It’ll be more special if you wait until you’re back permanently and you can marry whenever you want.”

“I don’t know,” Lance looked like a confused, wounded cocker spaniel. “I just – I want to make it all about her, you know? What would she want?”

As the three voices all began speaking at the same time, building up a crescendo that made Arthur glad that yet again, theirs was the only occupied table in the bar, Merlin heaved an overdramatic sigh before shouting.

“Shut _up_!” The voices quieted so that three different pairs of eyes could glare at Merlin while Arthur chuckled at the reaction. Lance just turned somewhat hopefully in Merlin’s direction. The hope was not in vain, for Merlin said “Lance. Freya’s been waiting for you to propose for over a year now. So tomorrow, I will go with you and we will pick out a ring and you will pop the question over dinner tomorrow night and she will say yes and it will be glorious and I will not have to deal with all of you shouting anymore because I am getting a _headache_.”

Merlin’s declaration was met by silence from his counterparts. All of them except for Arthur, who snorted under his breath. The snort broke the silence, though, for Lance’s face transformed into one of relief in the next second as he said “Oh, thank God.”

“You can call me Merlin,” was the cheeky response, earning him a slap on the back of the head. Arthur had to laugh again.

Naturally, because one topic had been exhausted, another had to rear its ugly head. This time, in the form of Gwaine, who turned to the pair of them with the biggest shit-eating grin Arthur had ever seen. “So, how was the first date, you two?”

Arthur groaned as he slumped into his seat, glaring at Gwaine over his beer. “Not a date.”

“Yeah, obviously not a date.”

Shit. Arthur had made the comment without checking to see if Merlin’s opinion was the same as his. Shit, shit, shit. And now his friend’s smile had suddenly become more forced, his teeth clenched as he uttered the words. Buggering fuck.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Gwaine said in a sing-song voice as Arthur leaned forward again, trying to meet Merlin’s eyes. The blue orbs were decidedly fixed on his drink, though, and Arthur mentally cursed his ineptness at realizing other people’s feelings once more.

Gwen, bless her heart, seemed to realize that whatever this was had reached a breaking point, for she reached a hand out to pat Gwaine’s shoulder. “Let’s leave it well enough alone. Why don’t you instead tell us about every horrible customer you’ve had today instead?”

This was, seemingly, a bribe and a cue for Gwaine to start ranting on and on about Mr. Lowes, the resident town drunk, and how he had, yet again, broken three wine glasses within one day. When Merlin announced a few minutes into the rant that he was headed for the bathroom, Arthur waited a good half a second before following him.

“Hey,” he grabbed Merlin’s shoulder, spinning him around just outside the door to the men’s room. Merlin wasn’t very easy to manhandle; he was slight and probably too skinny, but he had some muscle on him. “Look, I…I’m really sorry about that.”

“Arthur, relax,” Merlin said with a genuine smile and a hand loosely reaching over to grasp his shoulder. “It’s alright. Look, I’m not going to lie, I think you’re brilliant, but if you actually did think it was a date…Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t, right?”

“Wait,” Arthur stopped him, confused. “What?”

“All I’m saying is that I’m leaving in two months,” Merlin’s smile turned bittersweet, nearly self-deprecating. “And there’s always a chance I won’t come back. Better not to start anything, that way I don’t have to stop it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Arthur became more and more agitated as Merlin kept speaking. Sure, he was in the military, but why was he refraining from letting himself have what he wanted while he was home and able?

“It’s not like you thought it was a date,” Merlin shrugged, turning his eyes downward and Arthur immediately felt the need to correct him, damn the consequences.

“I could be persuaded to think it was a date, though,” Arthur tried, and Merlin’s eyes jolted back upwards, a mixture of dread and hope reflected in their blue. “Or if it wasn’t, then do it all over again and call the new time a date.”

This was coming out all wrong, but Merlin seemed to understand him, for he sighed sadly. “Arthur…”

“Did you want it to be a date or not?” Arthur was persistent. “If you weren’t leaving, would you want it to be a date?”

“Yes,” Merlin’s answer came without even a second’s hesitation. “Absolutely. But that’s not reality, Arthur.”

“Nothing feels like reality here,” Arthur said with a quiet, slightly desperate chuckle under his breath. “Everything feels…I don’t know. Different. Like I fell down a rabbit hole and popped out in Wonderland.”

Merlin beamed at him shyly. “Gorgeous, funny, and he makes Alice in Wonderland references, too. Where were you when I was eighteen?”

“I’m here now,” Arthur knew he had to keep trying. He didn’t know why, he just knew it was necessary. “How about…just for the summer? No strings attached. Two months, and after that, we go our separate ways.”

Merlin gaped at him a bit incredulously, eyes widening with some unknowable worry. “I – I don’t –”

“C’mon,” Arthur said. “You said you didn’t want to worry about stopping it. So how about we agree right away that we’ll be done with it when September rolls around?”

Merlin hesitated. “…Alright. But only if we’re clear on that point. We’re done after August is through. No negotiations.”

“Done,” Arthur said without preamble, without even a second thought to what kind of pain that single word could cause him in the days of the future. He wasn’t focused on that in the slightest. He cared much more about the way Merlin looked just slightly down at him through his long eyelashes, eyes sparkling with an emotion that Arthur couldn’t recognize. “Can I kiss you now?”

“And he asks permission, too!” Merlin through his hands into the air dramatically. “I give in. You win, universe, you win.”

Merlin didn’t wait for Arthur to lean in; he just bridged the gap between them in a single bound, capturing Arthur’s lips between his own.  

The rest of the patrons at their table were going to be absolutely insufferable about this turn of events.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you all go, hope you enjoy. Not as long as I would've liked, but I did break 2000 words.

The next morning was Arthur’s first experience with The Eyebrow.

His friends hadn’t been exaggerating, for it truly was a horrifying sight to behold.

Upon arriving at the newspaper building, Arthur had run into Gaius almost immediately, and, by some form of guilty conscience, lowered his eyes. He didn’t know if his boss was aware of exactly what he had done with his godson.

Which really wasn’t much of anything beyond a bit of kissing at the Fallen Kings, much to the delight of the rest of their group; Gwen and Freya had cooed over them incessantly to the point where they were each ruby red, Leon and Lancelot just smiled, unsurprised, and Gwaine made about six lewd jokes that Arthur wanted erased from his memory for all eternity.

And then Merlin had leaned over and kissed him goodnight when they were leaving. That was it. And then Arthur had gone home and hit his head against the wall a few times because of the situation he had somehow arrived in.

He hadn’t even wanted to have _friends_ in Albion, let alone have a sort of boyfriend that he was going to have to say goodbye to in two months’ time. But maybe that was for the best, if Arthur was going to be leaving soon anyway. Well, that last part was more of a hope than anything else.

Gaius, it seemed, had been informed of at least part of the transpired events for his look at Arthur was unlike any he had given him before. It was more scrutinizing than anything. Arthur swallowed hard and willed his eyes upward into the other man’s.

“I understand,” Gaius began speaking, phrasing his words as if he were in a situation that needed to be treated with immense delicacy. “That you and my godson are…ah…”

“Yeah,” Arthur said hurriedly, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. “That.”

Oh, he was so eloquent. It was no wonder Gaius hired him. Arthur wished he had something to bang his head against.

He had been doing that a lot this week. Maybe some brain cells had leaked out the last time he hadn’t been able to resist the urge.

“Well,” Gaius replied, mollified. And that was when Arthur saw it. The Eyebrow. It seemed an ordinary gesture, a simple quirked eyebrow that he surveyed Arthur with, but he was aware that this was what his new friends had warned of him.

It gave Arthur the feeling of a five year old that was caught stealing one too many cookies.

Gaius didn’t continue the trail of conversation, though, thank his lucky stars. He just said, voice almost teasing, “There’s fresh coffee in the staff room.”

Arthur either had the best boss or the worst boss there ever was. He hadn’t quite decided yet.

* * *

 

Arthur hadn’t expected Merlin to stop by at all that day, but, to be honest, nothing Merlin did was expected. Ever. Arthur was beginning to think it was a personality trait of his.

So he really tried not to be surprised when Merlin waltzed into his office without knock or invitation, just a smile. Arthur was decidedly _not_ glad to see him; he had work to get done, dammit.

The work was abandoned a moment later, obviously.

“Hey, Merlin,” Arthur said, quickly saving his work. Merlin, just as he had last week, threw himself into the chair in front of the desk without so much as a greeting, just a very loud groan as he leaned back, screwing his eyes shut. Arthur looked on amusedly.  “Bad day?”

“Lancelot is being insufferable,” Merlin cracked an eye open to look across the distance between the two of them. “He won’t decide on a ring. Thankfully, Gwen showed up and put me out of my misery, taking over my job as supportive friend.”

“A difficult job, surely,” Arthur chuckled under his breath, only half paying attention as he attempted a few more edits on the page his laptop had open. “Is he proposing tonight, then?”

“Hopefully,” Merlin said with a roll of his eyes as he sat up straighter so that they were facing each other. Arthur, admitting defeat, set his laptop down. It would certainly remain untouched for the rest of the afternoon. “But that means bar night is cancelled. So, yours or mine? Or is that too forward? Do you need wooing first?”

“Excuse you, you’d be the one being wooed in this situation,” Arthur reached across the desk to shove Merlin’s shoulder lightly, getting nothing more than a quirked eyebrow reminiscent of Gaius’s, only much less frightening. “And mine.”

“Lovely,” Merlin looked like he truly meant it; like it was a great gift he’d been given. “Gives you a proper chance at this wooing business. I hope I won’t be disappointed.”

“Please,” Arthur scoffed with an easy grin, recognizing the jest. “You will be awed.”

“Looking forward to it,” Merlin winked. “Say, six-ish?”

“Sounds good,” Arthur said, wondering if Merlin was going to leave him alone so that he could actually continue on with his former path of intense focus on his writing. Merlin, however, was as infuriating as ever, standing up only to slink around the desk so that he was standing behind Arthur, and leaned over to whisper in his ear, soft and slow and almost alien to Arthur’s ears.

“We’ll have a good time, yeah?”

“I hate you,” Arthur said, trying to swallow as heat crept up on his neck. “I hate you so much.”

“See you at six!”

* * *

 

Arthur really was planning on doing something nice when Merlin came over, a way of wooing so that he wouldn’t be totally inept at this whole sort of kind of relationship thing, but he ended up staying late at work to finish up an article with Gwen, so he only arrived home about five minutes before Merlin was supposed to show up. It was all he could do to grab a couple of frozen meals from his fridge and toss them in the microwave.

Close to thirty seconds after he pulled out the piping hot meals, there was a loud voice yelling from the entryway. “Ding, ding, ding!”

Arthur wheeled around so that he could poke his head out of the nonexistent doorway between the kitchen and the main room. Merlin was standing inside, leaning against the door with a small smile on his face that grew larger as he took in Arthur. “I should have locked that thing. Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“There are quite a few stories that I’ve been told about the concept,” Merlin strode into the house, obviously making himself comfortable with the surroundings as he followed Arthur’s head as it retreated back into the kitchen fully. “But I choose to believe that they are merely myths constructed to force people into politeness.”

“Your worst enemy,” Arthur snorted as Merlin gave him a lazy grin as he hopped up onto Arthur’s counter, taking a seat next to his row of cupboards. If it were anyone else, Arthur would have probably told them to get the hell off of the place he prepared food, but he had the feeling that telling Merlin to do so would be a lost cause.

“So, is this the wooing process?” Merlin made a grand hand gesture toward the two plates of spaghetti that Arthur had just pulled out of the microwave. “Frozen meals? I expected so much more from you, Arthur. Next time I shall have to woo you, and I will do so with much more success than this frankly pathetic attempt.”

Arthur should have been insulted by the commentary on his courting skills, but Merlin’s shit-eating grin just made him laugh and kick Merlin’s dangling legs lightly. “Yeah, right.”

“You did, however, make me food,” Merlin jumped down and threw an arm around Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur instinctively leaned into the touch. “Which is lovely, by the way, I’ve barely eaten today.”

“No wonder you’re so skinny,” Arthur replied, holding out a plate to Merlin, who took it gratifyingly, taking a fork off of the counter without being told. Arthur led him to his tiny dining room table that sat in the corner of his kitchen, big enough to fit maybe three people maximum.

Merlin snorted as he slid into one of the chairs, the one across from Arthur. “You sound like Freya. She makes at least one comment about my weight each day. It’s quite alarming.”

“And yet justified,” Arthur said through a mouthful of noodles.

“I still don’t believe any of you,” Merlin sang. “Anyway, according to Gwen, Lance finally picked out a ring. He and Freya should be in semi-matrimonial bliss right now, thank fuck. We’ve all been waiting long enough for them to get their shit together.”

Arthur swallowed his food, a pinprick of bother at Merlin’s apparent rooting for his military friend who had a long-term relationship. He made a split second decision to address it. “Why do you want him to get married so badly when you’re…you know…?” He made a few vague gestures with his hands.

Merlin’s relaxed smile became much more forced, his hand clenched more tightly around his fork as he stopped shoveling food into his mouth. “No negotiations, Arthur.”

“I’m not trying to negotiate, I swear,” Arthur defended his stance. “I just want to know your thought process on the matter.”

“Lance and I are just different people, that’s all,” Merlin’s fists unclenched and his voice let in more warmth, but the defensiveness hadn’t fully evaporated. “Plus, he and Frey have been together for nearly three years. And he has a much better chance of coming back –”

Merlin seemed to realize he was broaching dangerous territory, for he cut himself off with another huge sampling of his food. Arthur nearly cracked his neck he jerked his head up so quickly, nearly manic as he stared at Merlin. “Don’t say that.”

Merlin refused to meet his eyes; a tic Arthur was steadily learning was a way of attempting confrontation. “Just forget it, alright? Hey, did you know that I stopped by the pub on the way here, and it actually has _customers_? I nearly died of shock. Gwaine might actually have to work now. I should have stayed behind to watch him succumb to the pain. It’s a mark of how much I like you that I showed up at all.”

And he had changed the subject. Arthur wasn’t going to push, though. He wanted to push, he wanted to push so badly, to get all the information he could squeeze out of Merlin, try to see why he was so closed off underneath the witty banter and bright smiles…But they had only met last week. He had no right to that kind of information, at least not yet. And he _had_ agreed to this no strings attached deal.

So, instead of broaching the topic, Arthur chose to simply respond to the obviously bullshit story about Gwaine. “I’m honored that I rank above the opportunity to make fun of your friends.”

“Why would I make fun of my friends when I could make fun of my boyfriend instead?” Merlin nudged Arthur’s leg under the table with his own and a smile crept up onto Arthur’s features despite itself. “It’s so much more satisfying.”

“So that’s your purpose in my life, to feed me endless insults?” Arthur shoved Merlin right back.

“Maybe not my _only_ purpose,” Merlin drawled as he tilted back in his chair, lifting the front two legs off of the ground. “I can think of a couple others. But insult thing is clearly the most important.”

“Clearly,” Arthur was torn between being immensely turned on and wanting to hit him again. This would probably become a normal emotion for him in the near future. For two months of the future, at least. “Are you sure I can’t find out what the others are, though? I’m dying to find out.”

“That could be arranged.”

Arthur may be completely fucked in the long run, but right now, he couldn’t help but smile. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a lot faster than anticipated. Welcome to angst and pain, by the way. Hope you like it!

When Arthur woke up the next morning, he breathed in the scent of cinnamon and motor oil. It was only then that he realized his arms were curled around another breathing human being, his head buried in the person’s hair.

Blinking blearily, Arthur dislodged himself from the sleeping Merlin with a slight smile and a light shove against the snoring man’s shoulder. “Wake up, lazy.”

A loud groan greeted his words. “Come back. Warm.”

“I have work,” Arthur said with a chuckle, using his right arm to unsuccessfully push Merlin into an upright position.

“I don’t,” was Merlin’s disgruntled reply.

“So you’re just going to sleep all day long?” Arthur pulled himself out of the bed, but Merlin still refused to follow suit.

“Unfortunately, I have to go wish the soon to be newlyweds well,” Merlin began to sit up, his hair messy and tangled, eyes glassy from sleep. “See you again tonight at the pub?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

Arthur arrived at work very cheerful. Suspiciously cheerful, it seemed, for Gwen cornered him almost immediately on his first coffee run.

“Did you spend the night with Merlin last night?” She inquired immediately, foregoing all types of niceties. Arthur just rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Lovely,” she said, obviously pleased. “He likes you. You’re good for him. You two could really make it somewhere, I think.”

Arthur couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter at her words. “Don’t think so. It’s not like we’ll see each other again once he leaves.”

“What do you mean?” Gwen asked, brow furrowed, obviously confused.

“We made a deal,” Arthur shrugged, not liking the path the conversation was heading down. “We’re done after two months.”

“What?” For the first time since he’d met her, Gwen sounded almost angry. It made Arthur set his coffee down in mild alarm. “That idiot. It was all his idea, wasn’t it? I’m going to kill him. I’m going to _kill_ him.”

“…Gwen?” The woman’s face was red with rage, her fists clenched, and Arthur was slightly concerned for her well-being. It couldn’t be healthy for such a mild-mannered person to have such an attitude change in that short of an amount of time.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry,” the anger melted off her face and she regarded Arthur with something akin to sympathy. “This is something Merlin does. He’s a good person, but he doesn’t realize that what he does affects other people. He never has.”

“Gwen, honestly, it’s okay,” Arthur said in an attempt to calm her down. “I’m fine with it.”

“No, you’re not,” Gwen shook her head and Arthur would have been insulted by someone telling him his feelings. That is, if she weren’t completely spot on.  “And neither is he, even if he seems like it.”

“I think he’d argue with you on that point.”

“He’d argue with anyone about anything,” Gwen sounded fond for a moment before reverting back to her tone of scorn and rage. “But he’s still a moron. Just because he’s never been able to open himself up to anyone before now…”

“What do you mean?” Arthur said, hoping to dredge some, any, information on Merlin’s relatively unknown, shady past.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Gwen gave a sad shake of her head. “Look, Arthur, you don’t have to do this with him. He’s one of my best friends and I love him dearly, but you really don’t have to. I’m just afraid he’s going to do something he’d regret and you would suffer from it.”

“Gwen, relax,” Arthur said, although her words resonated with him on a level he was trying to keep under his own radar. He really didn’t have to do this; he was fine without Merlin, and knowing him was only bringing complications into his life. Sure, they had fun together, there was never a boring moment, and last night’s sex had been fantastic, but he wasn’t fully submerged. He could get of this before it had any chance to hurt him.

But really, what _could_ it hurt? Merlin was leaving, sure, but Arthur was prepared for that already. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen that he didn’t already know about. He was aware that Merlin would leave, and he knew that even if he wasn’t, Arthur himself would be leaving the town eventually, possibly as soon as he could, so there wasn’t an ounce of harm in just taking advantage of the time they had. Right?

It sounded like a decent argument in his head, but he was sure that if he wrote it down on a page, it would appear weaker than he would hope.

* * *

 

When Arthur arrived at the bar, he knew he would be one of the last people there. He had stayed late again; well, later than both Gwen and Leon at least. They would have been at the Fallen Kings for at least a half an hour before he showed up.

He didn’t even get to make it inside the door, though; Merlin was outside. Frowning at the slight figure, Arthur walked a bit faster to meet him.

“Hey,” Merlin greeted him, and he sounded almost nervous, which was puzzling indeed.

“Hi,” Arthur responded, glancing in the tinted window of the door that he could only barely see through, gesturing his thoughts. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“Wanted to talk to you alone,” Merlin sighed, shoe scuffing against the pavement. Arthur suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. “Gwen…mentioned your conversation to me.”

Ah. Arthur winced internally as he opened his mouth. “Look, I don’t know what Gwen’s on about…”

“No, she’s right,” Merlin interrupted him. “I – It was wrong of me to get you into this. I just really liked you, and I wanted you, and…I wasn’t actually considering your feelings on the matter. I tend to do that,” his tone became more self-deprecating than apologetic. “I can be very oblivious.”

“Picked up on that,” Arthur said, choosing to try and keep things light. Well, as light as they could possibly be. “Look, I agreed to it. I liked you, too.”

“But I put you into _this_ ,” Merlin shook his head, pulling his jacket more firmly around his shoulders.  “This mess. I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“So are we ending this early?” Arthur said, a bubble of dread appearing in his stomach. “Because…Look, Merlin, I’m fine with us lasting only until September.”

“But it’s not fair to you,” Merlin winced, playing with the frayed edges of his jacket, twisting and turning his fingers, not leaving them still for even a second. “I didn’t think you’d actually care to go beyond the two months anyway, you know, even if I was open-ended about it.”

Arthur’s head jerked up at the statement, but Merlin was unwilling, once more, to force eye contact. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“It’s what usually happens,” Merlin shrugged, not expanding on the topic. Arthur wanted to push, though, push harder and harder until he got to the truth of this strange being in front of him. “I’m not…I’m shit at this. Absolute shit. But I really do like you, Arthur, and I want to be friends with you, if nothing else. I can’t make you any promises.”

“I never asked for any promises!” Arthur could finally see where Gwen’s earlier had come from. Merlin didn’t seem to realize that other people around him had opinions, too, had feelings that needed voicing. That they weren’t ghosts, or people that he had known before, or whatever the hell Merlin saw when he noticed Arthur. He wanted to reach and out shake some sense into him. “I never asked.”

Merlin sighed, his voice laden with pain and Arthur was struck by how much he hated the sound. Merlin should be smiling and beaming, laughing at whatever ridiculous thing was happening this time, he shouldn’t be like this. But he deserved it, Arthur knew, he deserved it.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin half-whispered as he leaned against the brick wall that was the perimeter of the pub, where their friends were probably laughing and celebrating Lance and Freya’s engagement, not realizing what was happening just outside the door. “I’ve never been that great, well, anything, but people especially. I can’t see past my own two eyes sometimes.”

“I know the feeling,” Arthur said, realizing all too well how he knew it. He’d had countless girlfriends and boyfriends both tell him he was an emotionally stunted selfish bastard. He never thought he could meet anyone more hopeless with feelings than he was, but Merlin was trying his damnedest to beat him to the prize.

There was a moment’s silence, where the only noises were those of the cars passing by and the wind chilling the air. Arthur spoke again, his voice hoarse. “What if we just…started over? My name’s Arthur and yours is Merlin and we just met at a coffee shop and you decided to induct me into your league of superheroes.”

“And you’re Spiderman, of course,” Merlin caught on immediately, a smile gracing his features once more, a source of great relief for Arthur. There shouldn’t be a frown on his face, no matter how much he deserved it. “No question about it.”

They pushed open the door to the bar, chuckling slightly, still not on the same page, still not able to see the other’s point of view, still wondering exactly where they stood with each other, but they were smiling, and in that instant, it mattered more than all the other things combined.

* * *

 

Merlin managed to make it through a whole hour and a half without having a mental breakdown.  

A new record for him, most likely.

Escaping the pub, leaving a laughing group of happy, jubilant friends and a smiling but obviously still hurt Arthur, he walked to Gaius’s house, a mere two blocks away, shivering in the wind, trying and failing to stop tears from streaking down his face, his hands and arms itching with the fire of a thousand suns.

When he slammed the front door behind him, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, though. Thank God Gaius was over at Alice’s tonight.

He let out a bellowing scream as he fell to his knees, darkness engulfing him for one sweet, blissful moment before suddenly everything became ablaze once more.

He could feel the cursed magic flowing through his veins, not a life source, but a form of torture, and he couldn’t control the dancing, scarlet flames that pooled into his hand, threatening to burst loose and into his surroundings. It engulfed his right arm, burning his jacket to singes along the way as Merlin held in a whimper.

Oh, God, it hurt.

And it was only made worse by the goddamn guilt he felt over everything that had happened since Arthur had arrived in town. He had known from the start that _he_ was going to face damage from any experience having to do with Arthur, but he hadn’t even begun to factor in the other man’s possible pain over the scenario.

Someone was actually in pain over him. Merlin would have been shocked if he wasn’t too busy screaming himself hoarse, hoping that enchantments he’d put up to contain sound were still firm and rigid.

The Hellfire dissipated after a few more minutes of bone-crushing agony and Merlin fell against the rough, course carpeting, squeezing it tightly between his fingers, trying to get feeling to return to them. His arms had no burns, they never did, but they went so numb that Merlin had to work for hours to get any feeling back into them.

Merlin bit down hard on his pointer finger, hoping his teeth drew blood. He begged the universe just to let him have a few minutes to curl up on the floor, defenseless and without protective, just a second’s peace.

 He pointedly didn’t think of Arthur. If he did, he was almost certain that the fire would consume him once more, and this time, it would drain the life out of him. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, and I probably won't publish anything this week, it's going to be extremely busy for me. The next chapter's going to be long, though, and with lots of answers. Enjoy!

It only made sense, Arthur decided, that when his life was so muddled and confusing, that others’ futures seemed to align themselves all on their own.

It really wasn’t fair.

Still, two days later, during which he hadn’t talked to Merlin one-on-one once, he was at work trying to meet a deadline and in desperate need of a quick coffee fix. When he headed into the staffroom, however, the sight of the coffee maker did not greet his tired and sleep-deprived eyes.

Instead, it was Gwen and Leon, directly in front of the machine, engaged in what looked like a fierce battle of lip-locking proportions. Gwen was up on her toes, Leon leaning down, and it was anything but proper for a workplace scenario.

Arthur spent a whole five seconds gaping, because these were the two most respectable and proper people he had met in this town, and yet here they were, exchanging saliva at a rapid pace.

“Erm,” Arthur felt like he had to make his intrusion known. Gwen and Leon broke apart at his words, shocked at his entrance, as they and their red faces and lips to match jumped away from one another guiltily. “Sorry…?”

“No, no, we’re sorry, Arthur,” Gwen stammered, cheeks turning even redder as Leon nodded along emphatically. “That was entirely inappropriate of us. We, ah, just, ah, hadn’t really, ah…”

Her stammering was almost cute in a way. Apparently Leon thought so, too, for he cast her a fond glance before interrupting. “Hadn’t done that before. Us. It was a heat of the moment kind of thing, Arthur, surely you understand. And won’t report us.”

Arthur let out an incredulous laugh that wouldn’t stop. He chuckled for a good twenty seconds before saying “Of course not. And the first time? Christ, I thought the two of you were a couple from the first day I showed up!”

“Really?”

“The two of you just said that at the same time!” Arthur gestured violently at them with one of his hands. “Only couples and twins do that!  Look, I’m thrilled that you’ve finally done the deed, but I would really like some coffee, so if you’ll excuse me…”

They both moved out of the way immediately, much to Arthur’s pleasure. Caffeine was going to be necessary to make it through the rest of the day, he could already tell.

* * *

 

He was more right than he knew on that front, for Gaius stopped into his office four cups of coffee and two hours later.

“I’m almost finished,” Arthur waved a hand haphazardly in his direction. “I’ll send it to you within the next hour.”

“That wasn’t what I came here to discuss,” Gaius chuckled. “Although I’m glad that you’re so committed to getting your work done. I just saw Gwen and Leon kissing outside of her office. Should I ask?”

“Probably not,” Arthur snorted. “Did they freak out when they saw you?”

“They didn’t see me,” Gaius replied. “I think they were only slightly distracted.”

Arthur began to laugh. He really did like Gaius quite a bit, even if he wasn’t the biggest fan of this job. “What did you come here to talk about, then?”

“I wanted to know if you could come to dinner tonight,” Gaius smiled. Arthur, with a feeling of dread and sadness, opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, that he and Merlin weren’t together anymore, and even if they were, it wasn’t nearly that serious, but Gaius shushed him with a single look. The Eyebrow was also involved. “Not because of my godson, I’m perfectly aware of that situation,” he rolled his eyes long-sufferingly, which seemed to be the default emotion of those who spent too much time around Merlin. “But because I usually do so with my new employees if I think that they’re going to last.”

“Really?” Arthur was touched, but there was also a bit of guilt involved in his questioning of the decision. He wasn’t planning on lasting, he was planning on leaving as soon as he could, as soon as any other opportunity arose, and it wasn’t fair to Gaius to think that he was getting a long-lived employee.

“Yes, I’m quite impressed with you, Arthur,” Gaius nodded severely along with his statement. “Merlin would be there, but if it’s too much of a problem, I can tell him to make himself scarce. He can be good at that if it’s called for.”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “Merlin and I are mates, so it’s fine.”

“Good,” Gaius said. “I’ll write down the address. Would you stop by around seven?”

“Sure,” Arthur replied as he handed Gaius a spare pen, and after a moment of shuffling, a sheet of blank notebook paper that Gaius s neatly penned into before handing it back to Arthur and, with a smile, departed the office.

Arthur then proceeded to curse quietly under his breath. Dinner with Gaius and Merlin. Well. This would certainly be interesting.

* * *

 

It turned out it wasn’t _just_ Gaius and Merlin, for Arthur, upon coming to the modest brick home in one of Albion’s smaller neighborhoods, was greeted at the front door by a kindly older woman named Alice, a friend of Gaius’s apparently. She jabbered his ear off as he came inside, gesturing to a coat hook and then into an adjoining room off to the left that Arthur assumed was the kitchen.

He was proved correct, for Alice escorted him into a small, brightly lit kitchenette with a circular dining table set for four.

“Gaius and Merlin should be here soon,” Alice was saying as she pulled Arthur along insistently and almost shoved him down into one of the chairs with overwhelming force for a woman of her age and stature. “Gaius was just on the back porch watering the plants, and Merlin is somewhere around here, I’m sure. Who knows what that boy gets up to most of the time?”

It seemed Arthur wasn’t the only person that Merlin was secretive and distant with.

Gaius appeared a moment later, and greeted Arthur jovially. “Good to see you, Arthur. I’m sorry to say that none of us are great cooks, so we’ll just be having chicken breasts tonight.”

“That’s fine,” Arthur reassured him politely, fidgeting in his seat slightly. “Thanks for having me.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Gaius assured him as he pulled a piping hot, tinfoil covered pan out of the oven, handling it carefully as he meandered across the short space to the table. There was a cloth waiting for him in the center that he laid the pan to rest on. “Now, where’s Merlin?”

“I was just saying that I didn’t know,” Alice said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Should I go upstairs to find him?”

“Relax, relax, I’m here,” Arthur, recognizing the voice immediately, turned to find Merlin, dressed in nothing other than a t-shirt and skinny jeans, hair mussed as if he’d just gotten out of bed, striding into the room with a tired shake of his head. “Anything I can help with, Gaius?”

“I don’t think so,” Gaius replied. “We’re ready to eat.”

“Hey, Arthur,” Merlin said quietly as he pulled himself into the chair to Arthur’s immediate right.

“Hey yourself,” Arthur said back, but didn’t continue on the conversation, as Gaius had begun speaking again as he and Alice sat themselves down.

“So, Arthur, how is your father? I hadn’t heard from him for a while before he called about you needing a job.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Arthur answered, not entirely telling the truth. His father had recently suffered from a stroke, but he appeared to be recovering. He had the finest doctors in London aiding him, after all. “How was it that you two met?”

As Gaius went off into a spiel about his and Uther’s days at university together, Arthur tuned him out. Mainly because he had heard the story before from his father’s lips, but also because of Merlin. He looked overly tired tonight for some reason, almost sick in a way, dark circles hanging under his eyes. He let out a hacking cough at one point, lending more points in the sickness direction.

Gaius had broken off now with a question. “–And how long are you planning on staying here in Albion with us, Arthur?”

Shit. The question he didn’t want to have to answer. “I’m not sure,” Arthur chose his wording carefully. “It may be for a while, it’s not like I have many other job offers coming. There’s an opening at Camelot Times in London that my response is still pending on, but other than that, anything could happen.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you here for as long as you’ll stay,” Gaius said with a genial smile, and Arthur was once again reminded of how grateful he was for this job, even if he disliked it the vast majority of the time.

“Thank you, I do appreciate it,” Arthur said, but it was broken up by another coughing fir from Merlin.

“I’m going to say goodnight early,” was Merlin’s response when Gaius turned to him, Eyebrow raised. “Not feeling my greatest tonight. G’night, Arthur, good to see you.”

“Night,” Arthur replied, a mix of disappointment and relief coursing through his veins as Merlin smiled at his godfather before heaving himself upward and out of the room.

“He hasn’t been well for the past couple of days, has he?” Alice clicked her tongue as soon as Merlin vanished from their view. “Poor boy.”

A couple of days – since the two of them had decided that they were better off as friends. Was Merlin actually affected genuinely by that? It was hard to tell with him, what would hurt him and what wouldn’t.  Arthur had only known him for a couple of weeks, so he didn’t expect to know everything about Merlin right off the bat, but it seemed like no one, not even his family, knew quite what to make of him.

Arthur waited a good, solid seven minutes before caving in and asking “Excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

Gaius looked unsurprised at the question, as if he knew exactly what Arthur was doing and didn’t have an opinion about it either way. “It’s upstairs, second door on your left.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said, standing up and trying to appear to walk at a leisurely pace. When he reached the staircase, well out of view, he doubled his steps.

Once he arrived on the upper floor, he was met with four different closed doors, two on each side of him. He knew which the bathroom was, but he had no idea which of the others belonged to Merlin, and that was if he was up here at all.

As if some deity had heard his silent request, a loud crash came from the second room on the right, followed by cursing and what sounded like a choked sob.

Jumping into action at the sound, Arthur wrenched open the door without a second thought. “Merlin, are you –?”

He cut himself off, breath dying from his throat.

Merlin’s entire body was a ring of dancing flames. 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, just finished up play week. There might not be another until after Thanksgiving, so apologies in advance for that. Hope you enjoy finally getting some answers!

Arthur opened his mouth, but no sound came out, just a strange, gaping, half gasp as he staggered backwards, barely aware of his surroundings. All he could see was Merlin lit up orange and scarlet, flames licking up his bare forearms, like they were some creature eating him alive.

Merlin had jumped at Arthur’s voice, and was gazing at him with utter horror wrought across his features, and how could he even be standing up straight right now?

“I-Merl-I –” Words failed Arthur for one of the first times in his life. There was literally nothing he could see that would echo even a fraction of how much his mind was screaming right now.

“Just a second, just a second,” Merlin hissed, as if he was repeated a mantra or a prayer. His features were twisted up in pain as he repeated the phrase a few more times, muscles tensed beneath the flames as he stared upward, as if willing his skin to calm down.

“Gaius –” Arthur tried to yell for the man, hoping he would know something, anything, about what was happening, but his yell was only a hoarse croak. Merlin’s voice cut him off a moment later.

“No, no, I’m fine, just a second, just a second.”

He was not alright; he was on fire, for fuck’s sake! Arthur wanted very much to point this out, but Merlin most likely was aware of that fact. But how – was there water anywhere – he could put it with that –

But apparently his concern was unnecessary, for the fire that had been consuming Merlin was growing smaller and dimmer by the second, until it was simply pressed against the very surface of his skin, maybe an inch high off of his arms. Sweat dripped from his forehead and Arthur’s mouth fell open even further – was Merlin doing this? Was he controlling it?

What – What the hell was going on? If he hadn’t been in Wonderland before, he had most certainly arrived now. And Merlin was a Mad Hatter if he ever saw one.

The fire had all but vanished now, and Merlin managed to turn in Arthur’s direction, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. It was the most emotional Arthur had ever seen him.

“Are you – are you alright?” Arthur rasped out, and what a stupid question that was, because obviously the answer was a loud, resounding ‘no.’

Merlin’s answer, however, was entirely unexpected. “Yeah, yeah I’m alright. That’s happened twice in the last week.”

“Twice – What? What are you talking about?” Arthur’s brain was possibly going into shutdown mode. Or perhaps he was just going mad.

Merlin shrugged, eyes downcast, and it was only then that Arthur realized that his eyes had not yet met Arthur’s own. In fact, his eyes were looking glassy, as if he was about to faint –In two quick strides. Arthur crossed the room in order to grip Merlin’s shoulders through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, hoping to keep him upright should he begin to collapse. Merlin relaxed into the touch, but not fully.

“…It happens a lot,” Merlin said after a moment’s hesitation. “Too often, really, but who am I to complain?”

“Who are you to – I just – I need –” Arthur was possibly going to scream. Loudly. And repeatedly. “Tell me what’s going on, Merlin.”

Apparently his voice had been commanding and authoritative enough overtop his quaking and crippling horror at the events of the last few minutes, for Merlin gave him an unreadable look before nodding, almost unsurely. “Okay. You deserve that much. Okay. Just…I’ll meet you at your house, okay? Go back down to Gaius now and I’ll follow you home when you leave. I promise I’ll explain everything then.”

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” admitted Arthur after a moment of an unheated and almost weary stare between the two of them.

“Just trust me,” Merlin’s voice sounded so small and breakable in that second, and it was a tone Arthur wasn’t even slightly accustomed to hearing issue from the other man’s mouth. “Please.”

“Okay,” Arthur agreed, wondering what on earth could possibly explain something like this.

* * *

 

 Arthur managed to escape Gaius’s within the half hour, begging out on account of a stomachache, thanking him for a pleasant evening. He wondered if the old man could hear how hard his heart was pumping, if the adrenaline coursing through his veins was visible for all to see, if Gaius knew that his godson was a literal firecracker.

Gaius didn’t give him a hint to any of his unasked questions, just smiled and wished Arthur a good night.

Merlin’s truck crept behind Arthur’s on the short drive to the cottage, appearing just as Arthur was leaving Gaius’s street and following him all the way back, just as promised. Arthur was relieved, for he hadn’t actually known if Merlin’s word was good for anything.

“Hi,” Merlin had changed out of his shirt, looking cleaner in a crumpled black jacket that did not smell of smoke or ash. “Can I – come inside?”

“No use of us standing out here,” Arthur rolled his eyes in an almost fond way before catching himself, and sped up on his way to the doorway, pulling it open. He walked in first, Merlin a step behind. The instant the door closed, Arthur’s mouth opened.

“Start talking.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Merlin sighed, scuffing his shoe against the floor. Arthur hated how miserable and dejected his normally radiant face was, and he cursed himself as he strode across the room, throwing himself onto his couch and gesturing for Merlin to do the same.

“How about fire?” Arthur’s tone was sarcastic and tetchy, but he figured he had the right to be a bit on the angry side. Merlin winced as he sat down, a purposefully safe distance between them. “How about we start there?”

“That’s happened ever since I was a kid,” Merlin’s words were hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to form them, and Arthur was jolted with the realization that perhaps these words had never been spoken to anyone before, that no one but Merlin knew this story he was becoming privy to.

It would have been almost humbling if not for how reality was currently crashing and burning around every turn.

“Go on,” Arthur hoped he sounded calmer than he felt.

“It – I call it Hellfire” Merlin was glaring steadfastly at his hands. “Because that’s what it feels like. Hell. It never burns me; it only hurts me for short periods of time. It disappears eventually. Whenever I’m angry, or upset, or happy, or any emotion that’s too strong and uncontrollable, it starts to consume me and everything around me.”

“That –” Arthur’s mind was possibly short-circuiting. “That’s not possible.”

“That’s what I thought for years,” Merlin gave out a bitter, completely emotionless laugh. “I thought I was dreaming it all up inside my head. I thought the pain was a figment of my imagination. But then – well. Then the fire killed my mum and dad.”

“It – It did _what?”_

“I was ten years old,” Merlin’s voice had taken on a strange quality. Not exactly regretful, almost wistful in a way, as if recalling something beyond his grasp that he desperately wanted back. “I was upset because my mum said I couldn’t go to a theme park with my friends. I started crying, and that’s when the fire started. It was the first time it had ever happened in front of someone else, see. I had maybe had it happen in private three or four times before? Something like that. Anyway, I couldn’t control it and before I knew it, the whole house was swallowed up. The neighbor called the fire department, and I was the only one that got out alive. Uninjured, too. A miracle, they said. A goddamn fucking miracle.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur didn’t even know how to respond to something that painful. He would have accused Merlin of lying if he hadn’t seen the flames himself, but after such a blatant display of this showing, he couldn’t imagine it to be anything other than the truth.

“Just – just wait ‘til I’m done,” Merlin’s voice was a hoarse whisper and Arthur became horribly aware that his friend was crying.

After a moment of silence, Merlin cleared his throat and continued in even more subdued tones. “I think it can only hurt people I care about. It didn’t hurt Billy Rodgers, the bully kid from secondary school, and it doesn’t hurt the enemy forces when we’re on the field off in Afghanistan. That’s why – that’s why I push everyone away. The army is an excuse, Arthur. It’s my excuse for not getting close to anyone.”

“What?” Arthur thought back to all of Merlin’s comments about how it was only for the two months, how he couldn’t continue their relationship through his time in service – and it had been a lie?

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin miserably, curling his feet underneath him. “I’m sorry for lying. But would you have believed me if I had told you the truth?”

“So what you’re saying is –” Arthur tried to choose his words carefully, stumbling over a couple of them in the attempt.

“If I was the person you thought I was, if I didn’t have this – this thing, inside of me,” Merlin’s hands curled into fists and his eyes burnt a hole in the upholstery. “Then I wouldn’t have made that stupid deal about the two months. But God, Arthur, I just wanted you so badly that I was willing to hurt you in the process. And I’m sorry for that. You have no idea how sorry. And when I realized what I did, how much damage I could actually cause…”

“You wanted me that much?” Arthur couldn’t possibly fathom those words. The rest of them made sense, but those were something he was not accustomed to hearing in the slightest.

“Of course I did,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “You have no idea the effect you have on people, on me. You’re like this…this light. And I’m a moth. And I tried to stay away, tried to stay your friend, keep you away from this, but. Well. I’ve always been horrible at resisting temptation.”

“Have you ever had a real relationship?” Arthur was bursting with questions, but this was the first one on his lips, as his emotions were ranging rampant, everything from rage to heartbreak to an intense desire to hold Merlin into his chest and protect him from everything else the world could possibly offer. “Ever had anyone you really, truly cared about?”

“No,” Merlin’s response was instantaneous. “Gaius, Lancelot, Gwaine, Gwen – I love them. But it’s on the surface. Everything I have with anyone is purely on the surface. I can’t think about my feelings for anyone, can’t analyze them, I just have to go with whatever happens.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Arthur couldn’t imagine having to go through life like that, all with the weight of others’ deaths buried down on them.

“It is,” Merlin gave a half-chuckle of despair. “Which is where the two months’ clause came in. I thought that you’d get sick of me before that was even over. I’ve made the same deal a couple of times before, just short flings because of ‘the army.’”

“Are you even in the service?” Arthur stood up straighter, the thought occurring to him almost within the second of Merlin’s words. “Was that – was that a lie, too?”

“No, no!” Merlin reassured him quickly, eyes widening as if he were trying to dispel the thought from Arthur’s mind. “Not at all. I guarantee you; I’m actually in the military. I wouldn’t lie about something like _that._ ”

“Why, though?” Arthur asked. “Why would you choose such a high stress career when you could be in an office or a cubicle or something?”

“Because –” Merlin met Arthur’s eyes for the first time that night, and they were ashamed this time. They were more abashed, almost shy in a way. Which was very peculiar, as Merlin was not even in the least bit shy. But it appeared as if this was a night of firsts for Merlin and Arthur both.

Arthur had never heard someone confess their life’s greatest secrets before.

Magical, mystical secrets, too.

Maybe this was all some strange nightmare. Maybe Arthur was going to wake up in his bed in London the next morning, freshly graduated from uni with no job, and Albion and Merlin had never existed in the first place.

“Because…?” Arthur prompted, because as unlikely as the night was, that idea was even more far-fetched.

“Because it’s not just fire,” Merlin’s mouth very nearly quirked upward into an honest to goodness grin. Giving Arthur a sneaky look, he lifted up a long-fingered, slightly sooty hand, and whispered a word that sounded foreign on his tongue.

Arthur’s breath stuttered when a tiny little butterfly flew out of Merlin’s very skin, flying about the room in circles for a few moments before disintegrating into the air. It was possibly the most beautiful sight Arthur had ever seen, and Merlin laughed, a real one, a quiet one, as he watched Arthur’s unreserved wonder.

“Magic isn’t all Hellfire,” Merlin said after letting the butterfly sink into Arthur’s mind fully. “I can heal people, too, help them out of a building that’s crashing down, stop storms or freeze other people in place. I can help out there, I really can. All I have to do is keep the fire under control.”

Arthur laughed, because honestly, he thought he was about to cry. All of this, this whole façade, the charm and confidence and charisma, all of it hiding this dreadful and tragic secret.

What a sad story.

They didn’t speak after that. Arthur just pulled Merlin into him, gripping him tightly and making certain that he wouldn’t have to let go for a very, very long time.  


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the embarrassingly long amount of time it took to churn this out, and also for the fact that it's so short, but I figured you guys deserved something. Kind of a filler, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

When Arthur awoke, Merlin was curled inside of his left arm, head slipping slowly off of Arthur’s shoulder and onto his chest. Neither of them had made it off the couch last night, it seemed, which was odd because –

Oh.

_Oh._

Memories of the previous night came flooding back into Arthur’s mind, and he immediately jumped off of the couch. The jolting did nothing to change Merlin’s unconsciousness, however; the man’s head just drooped further down until it hit the cushion Arthur had previously been sitting on.

Arthur, heart pumping a mile a minute, paced about the room, trying to sort out the jumble in his mind. Now that the shock and disbelief had worn off, he could actually think about this and rationalize it in his mind.

Not that there was anything rational about the entire situation. Magic. Honestly, magic? Arthur had never been one for fairytales, even as a child, but there really was no other explanation for the fire, Merlin’s lack of injuries, and the butterfly. Christ on a crutch, Merlin had _magic._

And not just magic, he lit himself on fire every time he had an emotion. That must be hell, hell on earth. No wonder Merlin had come up with that terrifying nickname for the flames. Hellfire was the most accurate title Arthur could think for the process as well.

It was downright terrifying, whatever this thing was, and it changed everything. Merlin was actually completely and totally incapable of loving another person. Arthur somehow, guiltily, felt mollified by this, as if he was waiting for a good and proper excuse for Merlin’s insistence on their shortened relationship. Well, this was a great one, but it wasn’t the one he wanted. Not by a long shot.

“Morning,” a raspy voice echoed from the coach and Arthur, so deeply lost in thought as he paced, nearly jumped out of his skin. Whirling around, he was greeted by Merlin, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and cracking his neck an obscene amount of times as he sat up. “You…uh, you okay?”

“I’m processing.” Arthur didn’t mean to snap, but he did. It was something that happened when he was in a highly stressful situation, and he honestly could not help it. He felt a twinge of regret as he saw Merlin’s face twist into a grimace as he leaned back.

“Sorry for crashing here last night,” Merlin did not meet Arthur’s eyes. Instead, he was looking at the radiator across the room – the radiator that he had fixed that first time he had come over. Arthur couldn’t compare that Merlin with the one sitting on his coach, just as he couldn’t compare yesterday’s Merlin and today’s Merlin. This was an entirely different person than Arthur had originally thought he was.

Well, maybe not entirely. Arthur would have to see.

“It’s fine,” he said, knowing his voice sounded slightly strangled.

“Well, thanks nonetheless,” Merlin wasn’t perturbed by Arthur’s crises, he just stood up, stumbling slightly as if he had a hangover. “I should really go…”

“Wait,” Arthur said, rushing to stop him, taking a step toward the couch. Merlin looked over at him with a tiny little ray of hope in his eyes. “I – It’s my day off. We can…I don’t know. Do something. Talk about something.”

“Really?” Merlin seemed utterly floored by the comment. “I mean – I figured that now that you knew everything, I wouldn’t exactly be on your list of favorite people.”

“How does – What I mean to say is – Just because you’re magical doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know you, spend time with you.”

God, Arthur was horrible at this whole feelings-sharing shit. He had never been any good at any sort of expression of his emotional capacity. He often pretended he didn’t _have_ an emotional capacity, when it came to that.

“Okay,” Merlin was looking at him strangely now. This was why emotion sharing never worked out properly. But Merlin _had_ just told Arthur the greatest secret of his life, so Arthur kind of needed to pay him back for that, even though it could only be in small ways. He’d never had a huge, life-shattering kind of secret. This was all new to him.

Merlin spoke again. “What do you want to do?”

“I – There’s the boat?” Arthur suggested, already feeling like a fool as Merlin’s head snapped up. After their escapade the previous weekend, Merlin had left the canoe at Arthur’s, claiming he was too tired to lug it back to Gaius’s then and there, and he had never gotten around to bringing it back. “Thought we had a deal that we’d go out on it again sometime. So if the offer still stands…?”

Merlin’s face broke into a grin as he circled back around the couch, leaning against one of the sides. The day-old stubble on his chin and his red-rimmed eyes shouldn’t have been attractive, but they really, really were. “Yeah. Of course. I’d love to.”

“Okay, then,” Arthur tried to smile back. “That’s what we’ll do.”

* * *

 

“Have you ever told anyone else?”

Arthur tried not to ask, he really did, but he couldn’t help himself. The sun was bright that morning, a cool breeze wafting around the pair of them. They hadn’t spoken much at all, just pulled the canoe out to the lake and began to row, determinedly avoiding eye contact the entire time. Arthur wasn’t sure what else he could speak of other than this huge, looming thing between them that threatened to consume everything.

Merlin, apparently, had been expecting questions, for he smiled softly over at Arthur. “No. I think Lancelot suspects that there’s something different about me, but I’ve never actually told anyone everything…that is, until you. Not even Gaius knows.”

Arthur was both immensely flattered and also horrified at the comment. He was the only person Merlin had ever trusted with this – But Arthur had caught him in the act, with his skin lit aflame, so it wasn’t like it really counted for anything, at least in lieu of Merlin’s feelings. But the idea that he had kept this a secret from everyone he knew since he was ten years old, over a decade…

Arthur wanted to shudder at the thought of anyone, let alone a kid, with that much of a weight and a burden on their shoulders.

“Why not?” He found another question that easily followed up his first. “I mean, other than that they probably wouldn’t believe you. But you could have shown them. You didn’t…you didn’t have to be alone in it. You could have gotten help, somehow.”

Merlin’s laugh was somewhere between real and bitter. “No one wants to know this, Arthur. No one wants to have to deal with this, even if it is only secondhand. You’re already wishing I hadn’t told you.”

“No, I’m not, I’m glad you did!” Arthur protested, even though it was only a half-truth. Merlin did have a point. Arthur’s life had definitely taken a downward drop from the moment he saw the Merlin’s Hellfire. “Or at least I’m glad that you have someone who knows. I want to help, if I can.”

“There’s nothing you can do to help, I’m sorry,” Merlin shook his head and moved his eyes away from Arthur’s as he tried to resume rowing once more. “Just…just don’t push me too much, okay? I don’t particularly like the feeling of flames on my skin. I wouldn’t call it pleasant.”

“I won’t,” Arthur promised, and hoped he would be able to keep it. “I swear I won’t. And if you need help with _anything_ you call me, alright? Anything. I don’t want to find out you set fire to half the city and I never even got a text.”

Merlin let out an undignified snort a second later, clearly having to process whether or not it was a joke or not. Arthur actually wasn’t sure whether it was a joke or not. It was more serious than anything, but it did have the qualities to transform itself into something humorous. And maybe what Merlin needed was right now was a touch of humor.

Laughing was better than crying, after all.

* * *

 

That night, when they arrived at the pub, together, Arthur slightly leaning into Merlin’s side, Gwaine called from the already full table.

“Well, look what lovebirds made up!”

Neither of them confirmed his words.

But they didn’t refute them either. 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy.

Over the next week or so, Arthur asked more personal, almost prying, questions than he had in his entire life. He was desperate to learn more about Merlin, about his magic, about his fire, about what other powers he kept hidden, about his guilt and anger and feelings and lack of love in his life.

Well, he tried to avoid that one, but the thought was always trickling in the back of his mind. How anyone could go through life the way Merlin did was absolutely astounding and Arthur was frankly surprised that Merlin hadn’t collapsed under all that weight yet.

Especially what with what had happened to his parents. Even though Merlin never quite said the words, Arthur knew that he blamed himself for it; that he always had and probably always would. HE knew the feeling well; his mother had died in childbirth and Arthur always felt some sort of responsibility on his shoulders for that loss.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

He wondered vaguely if Merlin felt like this life he led was supposed to be some kind of penance for his sins, for the harm he had felt he caused. Arthur hoped not. No one should put themselves through those kinds of thoughts. Not Merlin, at the very least.

Arthur had seen so many sides to Merlin since he had learned the secret. He had seen vulnerability, self-doubt, depression, and then beneath those ugly concepts, there was caring, selflessness sacrifice– there were so many layers to Merlin ta Arthur could barely keep track of them.

Merlin, the real Merlin, was so different from the charismatic and confident man Arthur had first met. He was more real, though, more human somehow. He was not perfect, he was not golden, and Arthur honestly preferred him that way.

The real traits only appeared when the two of them were alone together, though. At the bar with their friends, Merlin’s friends that he’d known for years and years, he put on the mask again, the thing that shielded him away from their world, removed him from them.

And Arthur was the exception to this, Arthur who had only known him for a little over a month. Merlin was himself around Arthur, the only person that he could truly be who he was with, because Arthur was privy to information that his other friends could not even hope to find.

Arthur was a bit scared by it all, to be honest. Not that he would ever say anything about that, but it was the truth. It was overwhelming, both in good ways and in terrifying ones.

But he knew that he would gladly take those terrors if it meant that he could keep Merlin in his life. Because Arthur was Merlin’s exception, but Arthur was one the one that needed him; needed him near, needed him safe from harm, needed him to keeping being strong.

Arthur found himself unsure of what was so interesting about his life before Merlin came along. Sure, he had lived in London, a city that he still remained absolutely desperate to get back to, even if Albion was growing on him a bit, and he knew he had liked his uni classes, his friends, but it felt like he had barely scratched the surface of life then.

And now he had plunged all the way in, suddenly finding himself so completely out of his depth.

Like he had said; terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. Speaking of which…

“Arthur! Come on, hurry up.”

“Where exactly is it we’re _going_?”

“Just come on!”

“Call me crazy, but I do not just follow people randomly into the woods. Especially people with magical powers that could kill me very quietly and make it look like an accident.”

“I’m wounded by your accusations.”

“As you should be.”

“Prat.”

“Idiot.”

“Clotpole.”

“ _Clotpole_?”

“Just come on!”

Arthur, with a loud, heaving, overdramatic sigh, trudged up the steep hill path that Merlin had bounced ahead on until he was almost at the top, with Arthur somewhere around the middle. He was of the belief that he could have easily overtaken the other man in an evenly matched footrace, but Merlin was so exuberant and also hopped up on caffeine from earlier this morning that Arthur didn’t quite like his chances at the current moment in time.

Not to mention that as soon as noon passed and Arthur had left work for his afternoon off, Merlin had appeared just outside of the newspaper building, excited and chugging a cappuccino, talking a mile a minute about something that he’d been dying to show Arthur – well, Arthur had basically given up the pretense that he was going to be doing anything other than spending as much time with Merlin as he could, and followed him.

He had not been expecting the woods.

Arthur liked nature, he had loved going on hikes and trail rides as a kid, and he was no stranger to exercise, trying to work out a couple of times a week.

It was the not knowing where he was going that bothered him. He trusted Merlin, trusted him absolutely, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a trickling of unease at having no semblance of control of the situation.

But honestly, he should have been used to that by now. It had been the state of his existence since his move here.

“Merlin –”

Arthur had made it to the top of the hill, but Merlin was already a few feet away, his face turned the opposite direction of Arthur’s and gazing into a clump of trees. Arthur, confused was about to open his mouth once again, but Merlin’s reverent whisper caught him off-guard.

“We’re here.”

“What is it?” Arthur made his way over to where Merlin was standing, stopping only a few inches to his left and peering in through the multitude of tree branches that seemed to be never-ending. There was nothing there. He squinted, wondering if Merlin had perhaps taken more drugs other than caffeine this morning, but that thought was cut off by his own gasp.

The thicket of trees was no longer a thicket of trees. Well, it was, but it was so much more. Sunlight seemed to be pouring off of every surface, enveloping its surroundings, even the air, in a shining glow. There was a small clearing, one barely visible but still there, that seemed to be the center of it all, of this vast and unnamable thing that took Arthur’s breath so entirely away.

Merlin breathed into his ear as the pair stood completely still. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“What is it?” Arthur managed to get back to him, not taking his eyes off of the beautiful golden light.

“Magic,” he could hear Merlin’s smile. “It’s a place of power, of light, of that mystical energy that makes me tick.”

“So this is – this is magic, like real, visibly personified magic,” Arthur tore his eyes away from the beauty of it to face Merlin’s blue ones. “This is what’s inside of you?”

“I suppose,” Merlin’s smile was a bit bashful at the statement, but Arthur wasn’t surprised in the slightest that this was the energy that had built Merlin up, had created him. “Part of it, at least. I’m not sure where the fire comes from. Probably something much darker and more sinister, though. Maybe like an anti-whatever this is.”

“No, this is you,” Arthur decided, and it was worth the trickle of emotion pouring into his veins to see the smile on Merlin’s face light up. “This is most definitely you. Can we – can we go into it?”

“If you like,” Merlin gestured him forward, with a sweep of his hand. Arthur stepped into the grove, and somehow felt the light seep into his skin, felt it overtake him. His muscles relaxed, his bones took in the gold, and he sighed contentedly within a moment.

“I knew it would like you,” Merlin had stepped into the clearing as well, and the light shining from his pale skin made him seem as if he was some kind of angel, a direct parallel to the fire singing off of his flesh. This was beauty, this was Merlin on a high point, and Arthur was able to recognize that. “The magic here. You attract magic, I think.”

“I do what?”

“Attract magic,” a light blush appeared on Merlin’s cheeks as he turned to face him. “First time I met you, my magic – the good magic, not the fire – it reacted to you like it hadn’t anyone else before. I don’t really know why, but it did.”

It was Arthur’s turn to hope his face wasn’t turning colors. Again, he was partway flattered; partway intimidated by this great thing, this thing that he hadn’t even aware was in existence until a week ago, that was suddenly the most important piece of his life.

“It’s kind of why I’m afraid of being near you, actually,” Merlin’s voice was matter-of-fact and Arthur jerked his head toward Merlin’s almost comically. “The fire might be attracted to you, too.”

Any suave, flirty comments that Arthur could have thought up as a proper response died in that moment. Merlin looked so genuinely worried, as if the thought had been plaguing his mind, and Arthur just wished he could wipe it off of his face and make him laugh again, making a stupid joke about superheroes or small town life.

Anything but let him keeping appearing like a wounded puppy.

“I’m glad you brought me here,” Arthur said quietly, letting his hand lift up and rest on Merlin’s shoulder. The other man’s eyes met his and Arthur thought he could see something there – something that he hadn’t seen before.

But it was gone in an instant, so fast that Arthur thought he must have imagined it, for Merlin spoke again, his voice lighter and back on that same high from his slightly alarming caffeine intake.

“So, now that you’ve seen how beautiful magic is, do you want me to see if I can manage to throw a lightning bolt for you? I promise I won’t hit any trees.”

Arthur laughed. “Throw lightning bolts? You’ve got to be having me on.”

Merlin’s smile turned mischievous. “We’ll see about that.”

Arthur found his original stance on the matter moved after an afternoon of impossible things suddenly entering the realm of possibility, entering with a crash and a bang and, in the case of the lightning, a strike.

It was a good day, a day of laughter, of friendship, of touches that lasted just a second too long, of the most beautiful and frightening things Arthur had ever seen, and of magic of both the physical kind and the spiritual one that hung in the air around them, saturating it and enhancing every last thing that occurred, making it shine golden.

It was the best day Arthur had experienced in a very long while.

So naturally, it was the last good day Arthur would have in a very long while. 


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but I hope to finish this story over Christmas break! I've got maybe...three or four more chapters to spit out after this one. Enjoy!

It was on Friday that Arthur got the call, one month, one week, and three days after his arrival in Albion.

“Hello?” His cell phone buzzed from his pocket and when the number on the screen had come up as unrecognizable, he frowned at it before pressing it to his ear.

“Is this Arthur Pendragon?” A clipped, professional, feminine voice responded.

“Yes, yes it is,” Arthur said as he gave his full attention to the call, sliding his chair a few inches backward from his desk where his computer was open, and his latest article for Gaius open on the screen. “Who may I ask is calling?”

“This is Vivian Lancaster with Camelot Times,” she responded and Arthur’s eyebrows rose as he leaned forward, hands onto his knees, intrigued, heart suddenly pumping faster. His application to work there had been pending for ages now, and he had all but given hope of ever hearing from them again. “We have looked at your application and are considering hiring you as one of our columnists.”

“A columnist?” Arthur asked after slight hesitation. He had always preferred writing actual news, he had never pictured himself writing personality pieces, quips and jokes, for entertainment, that was for novelists, not reporters, but Camelot Times…That would pay brilliantly, not to mention that it opened up so many possibilities for his future, and Camelot meant returning to London –

– Returning to London.

Arthur missed London dearly, it was his home and always would be, but Albion was quickly worming its way slowly into his heart, and he was so comfortable here, how would he tell Gaius, Leon and Gwen, who had become close friends despite his best efforts, and Merlin, God, Merlin –

“Yes, a columnist,” the woman said. “One of our columnists is retiring at the end of the month and her position is opening up. We’d like to offer it to you.”

“So I would start…” Arthur probed.

Her response came in a bored and overworked tone. “On September first.”

“September first,” Arthur repeated, a knot growing in his stomach. Three days after Merlin left. “Do you mind if I call you back in the morning on whether or not I accept the offer?”

“Not at all, just get back to us as soon as you can, or else we’ll call our next candidate,” she said. “Have a good day now.”

“You, too,” Arthur replied, but she had already clicked off.

He fell back against his chair, heaving out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected it at all.

If he took the job, he would be leaving behind this life he carved out for himself, the friends he had made and respect that he had gained. He would be quitting on Gaius so soon after arriving, after barely being here at all.

And Guinevere and Leon – where would he find better coworkers, better friends? Lancelot and Freya, even Gwaine, how the hell would he be able to say goodbye to these people that he had managed to grow attached to in such a short amount of time?

Not to mention Merlin – but Merlin would be gone, anyway, would be leaving, back to the army, back to using his gifts to keep people safe at any cost – back to being Wolverine, and Arthur wasn’t sure how he could be Spiderman anywhere but here.

And he liked being Spiderman.

Albion would be less of a place of love for him without Merlin there, though. Merlin was what really made this place shine for Arthur, try as he might to deny it.

A soft knock at the door broke him out of his reverie, and Gwen’s head poked in. Arthur tried to smile over at her, look as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis, and it seemed as if he succeeded, for she grinned back at him. “Leon and I are taking off early…we kind of have a date.”

“Good for you,” Arthur held in a small laugh at the fact that it had taken the pair of them this long to reach this point. “I suppose we won’t be seeing you at the pub tonight?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, a blush prettily staining her cheeks in an endearing way. “See you tomorrow, though!”

“Have fun! Use protection!” Arthur called after her disappearing figure and he saw a flash of her middle finger before she vanished entirely from view.

He sighed loudly, despite knowing that no one could hear him.

Having a look around his office, his small, dingy, barely furnished office, he imagined what an office in London, in Camelot, would look like.

* * *

 

“Hey, Arthur.”

Arthur, upon leaving the newspaper’s building after getting hardly any work done, his focus being quite obviously elsewhere, had headed, as he usually did, to the pub to meet his friends. He needed a distraction, even just for a couple of hours, and this seemed the perfect one.

Lancelot, it appeared, had arrived almost in sync with him, for he was striding toward the door that lead into the Fallen Kings from the opposite direction of Arthur, a small smile on his handsome face.

“Hi, Lance,” Arthur greeted him warmly. The man had been smiling ever since he had proposed to Freya all those weeks ago and her answer had been a loud, resounding yes. Wedding plans had been the subject of conversation in many of their nights here, and it seemed that their tentative plan was for the ceremony to take place the following summer, in June, when Lancelot was entirely finished with his service.

This was also when Merlin was returning, but according to a couple of conversations that Arthur had had with him, there might not be such finality in his case.

 “How was work?” Lance asked, and before waiting for Arthur to respond with a fine, thanks, he plowed on, obviously not wanting to get caught up in small talk, something that Arthur respected him for. “Look, you and Merlin are back together, and that’s great but –”

“What?” Arthur’s forehead crinkled at the comment. “Merlin and I aren’t back together – we were hardly together in the first place.”

“You’re not?” Lancelot asked with a confused head tilt that made him look like a cocker spaniel. “I could have sworn…”

“Sworn…?” Arthur pressed as he trailed off into nothingness.

“Merlin just looked…I dunno, happier,” Lancelot shrugged. “Thought it must have something to do with you.”

“I –” Arthur began, not exactly sure what was going to come out of his mouth, but luckily did not have to make that decision, as he was cut off by a figure worming themselves in between the two of them, and Freya appeared under Lancelot’s shoulder.

“Evening, boys,” she said. “We going in, or are we enjoying this lovely summer evening?”

“We’re going in,” Arthur said, pushing the door open for the pair of them, gesturing them through before heading inside himself.

“Princess, c’mere!” Gwaine’s voice was the first thing Arthur heard upon entering, and Arthur sighed, eyes spinning backward into his head, at the ridiculous nickname. Wasn’t a superhero one enough, did Gwaine really have to add this one on top of it?

A soft chuckle tore Arthur’s attention away from his silent tirade against Gwaine and his ways, and his eyes immediately drank Merlin in from where he sat across from the other man, tipped back in his chair like he had been the first time Arthur had seen him here, and an unwitting smile appeared on his face as he rounded the table and slid into the seat on Merlin’s left.

“Yes, Gwaine?” He asked, feigning intense interest.

“We’re having a debate,” Gwaine said, gesturing to himself and Merlin. “And we need your expertise.”

“Expertise, that’s what I’m good at,” Arthur grinned as Merlin snorted. He responded with nudging the other man’s foot slightly with his own. “What is it this time?”

“ _The menu_ ,” Gwaine leaned forward, beckoning the two of them closer, speaking as if the words he had just uttered were the most profane in all existence. “Merlin thinks its shit and that I need to actually serve food that is semi-edible. I think the food is just fine the way it is. Thoughts?”

Arthur sighed, but it was in a fond way, as if Gwaine was a cute, annoying, potentially dangerous five-year old, which, in all honesty, was about the closest one could come to defining Gwaine in a single sentence. “The menu’s shit, Gwaine, that’s all there is to it. I mean, you even manage to screw up chicken wings. _Chicken wings._ How is it even possible to screw those up?”

“My point exactly!” Merlin said as he flapped a hand in Gwaine’s face. The long-haired man glared at the pair of them in retaliation.

“I’m done with the two of you and your scarily similar brain patterns. I’ll get advice from people that I can trust,” Gwaine sniffed in an overdramatic manner, turning to their other two counterparts that were seated at the opposite end of the table. “Lance, Freya, about the menu…”

Arthur tuned him out when Merlin leaned into his shoulder, murmuring quietly into his ear. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Arthur replied, hoping his face wouldn’t give away his internal turmoil.

Merlin’s eyes searched Arthur’s suspiciously, Arthur holding his breath mentally. But Merlin relented, leaning backward in his seat. “Alright, I believe you. You want a drink?”

“Obviously,” Arthur responded, and, thankfully, the subject was dropped.

Until later that night, when he somehow found himself walking with Merlin back to the newspaper building, where apparently, Merlin had decided to park his car earlier that evening. Arthur’s, of course, had been sitting there since that morning, so it was only natural that they walked together.

“Something happened,” was the first thing out of Merlin’s mouth once they were out of Lancelot, Freya, and Gwaine’s earshot. “Something important, something you’re not telling me about.”

“We’re all allowed to have our secrets, Merlin,” Arthur snorted humorlessly, because it would be rather useless to lie.

“I know,” Merlin’s hand caught Arthur’s arm and stopped the two of them in their tracks. “I just…You’ve helped me so much over the last week or so, more than you could possibly imagine, and I just want to help you, too. If I can. If you’ll let me.”

“I…” Arthur hesitated, but Merlin’s electric eyes regarded him with such open emotion, open concern, and any thoughts of lying to him faded out of his head. “I got a job offer. In London, starting in September.”

“September?” Merlin repeated his face and voice entirely unreadable.

Arthur nodded in confirmation and Merlin heaved out a sigh. “Is it a good job?”

“Yes, it is,” Arthur said. “And it has the potential to be a great one eventually.”

“Do you want to take it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I – I’ll be gone,” Merlin said, almost blurted out, and his next sentences were said in a jumbled rush. “Not that I’m implying that my absence has anything to do with your decision, but I’m. I’m just saying. That I won’t be here, so it’s not like I can critique you for leaving when I’m doing the exact same thing.”

“It’s a part of my decision,” Arthur felt the need to clarify, although the confession made him feel oddly vulnerable, especially standing in semi-darkness on a nearly deserted street corner. “I don’t want to leave anyone here, but you…you most of all. But I really want this job; I want to go back to London.”

“If it’s Gaius that’s stopping you,” Merlin said softly. “He’ll understand. He won’t hold it against you.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Arthur said. “I just need to think through this on my own, I think. I’ve got to call tomorrow morning. I’ll sleep on it first. See what I think in the morning.”

“Whatever you choose,” Merlin’s hand was hesitant at first, but then it touched Arthur’s with a warm, strong squeeze. “I won’t think any less of you. No one will.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said gruffly as he swallowed hard, trying not to show how deeply the words had affected him.

“…See you tomorrow?” Merlin questioned and Arthur suddenly realized that they had continued walking; walking so far as to be just outside of his work’s building, cars parked just to the right.

“See you,” Arthur nodded briefly before tearing his eyes away from Merlin’s kind, concerned ones and letting himself into his car, losing himself in the act of driving for a couple of minutes before heading home and falling asleep after hours of tossing and turning, thinking up ideas, possibilities, and choices.

* * *

 

Even dialing the number, Arthur was unsure exactly what his mouth would say when he spoke. Sleeping had not helped in the slightest; he was just as conflicted as he had been the second he had heard the offer. He hadn’t talked to Merlin again, hadn’t talked to Gaius or his father or anyone else. This was his decision, and he had to be the one to make it.

When the secretary patched him through, he held his breath for just a moment before exhaling, and as the woman from the day before answered with words that just barely registered in his head, he responded, “This is Arthur Pendragon about the job offer to be a columnist. I accept.” 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

Arthur felt guilty.

It wasn’t right, he had nothing to feel guilt over; he had signed no contract, made no commitment to work for Gaius longer than he had to, and now he didn’t. He was getting out, just like he had wanted. If he would have gotten this job offer at the beginning of the summer, he would have been absolutely overjoyed. So what, exactly, had changed his mind so drastically?

Merlin.

Quite obvious, really.

Arthur’s reality had been ripped to shreds and messily reconstructed since he had first met the other man, and it had never been highlighted more than in that moment. He had been looking forward to escaping this town, and now he could hardly believe he was leaving. He had only spent a month here, but it had easily been the most important of his life, and it was entirely Merlin’s fault.

Arthur wished he could be upset about that, upset that his feelings had been mauled six or seven times, disfigured into something entirely new, but he wasn’t. He could never place blame on Merlin for that.

In fact, his guilt was so overwhelming that immediately after hanging the phone from his call to Camelot, he dialed Merlin’s number.

It rang for quite a while and Arthur, feet kicked up on his coffee table, wondered if Merlin had been asleep. It was quite early, after all, barely past seven in the morning. Arthur still hadn’t left for work, and since Merlin currently had no job, he could sleep as late as he wanted.  Still, the phone was picked up on the final ring.

“Hello?”

Merlin’s voice didn’t sound sleepy; it was alert and wary, stretched tight as if he was speaking through clenched teeth.

“Merlin…Are you alright?” Arthur asked a tad hesitantly. Now that he knew that Merlin would be honest with him, the answers to the simplest questions had the possibility to turn into something horrible and twisted.

“I’m fine,” Merlin said defensively, and Arthur sighed at the obvious and glaring way. Merlin seemed to recognize that his words were transparent, for in the next second, he admitted “Not really, no. But don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Merlin, just tell me,” Arthur said. “Let me help. I can come over before work if you accidentally set your drapes on fire.”

Merlin gave a lifeless, hollow laugh. “That would be funny if I hadn’t already done it six times. But no, it’s just…I’m kind of keeping the phone up floating next to my ear while my fingertips are getting ready to light candles.”

“ _What_?” Arthur said, feet crashing to the floor as he leaned onto his knees, heart racing. “What happened? Do you – can I –”

“Arthur, it’ll be okay, it does happen quite often,” Merlin’s voice was reassuring, but the tightness and the pain infiltrated through and just made Arthur more concerned for his well-being. “And I’ve dealt with this for years without any help at all, so I think I’ll be fine for a morning.”

“Did something happen to set you off?” Arthur asked, remembering their conversation the previous night, and, with a sickening feeling in the depths of his body, began to blame himself.

“It’s nothing,” Merlin said in the tone of voice that made Arthur think it was definitely something.

“Tell me.”

“I – I just – I can’t expect you to wait for me or anything,” Merlin said miserably and Arthur’s throat constricted. “I can’t – Especially if you’re going back to London. You are going back to London, right?”

“I am,” Arthur said into the crackling receiver, clenching a fist against it.

“So I can’t just ask you to – if you’d even want to – I’m sorry,” Merlin sighed. “I’m sorry I ever dragged you into this. Into everything.”

“Merlin…” Arthur was at a loss for words. He knew what the other man was trying to get what, the thoughts that were going through his mind, because the same ones had been tossed around in his own head more than once. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I do have to thank you,” Merlin said, emotion filtering through his tone. “I mean, in less than two months, you’ve managed to fuck up my entire life.”

“Just returning the favor,” Arthur tried to joke, and it seemed to work, as a real laugh, a quietly nervous one, greeted his ears.

“Can you – can you just distract me for a second?” Merlin asked. “To help me get the flames down.”

“Distract you?” Arthur repeated. “How so?”

“Talk about something happy, something funny, something that’ll stop the pain,” Merlin’s voice, strained and higher pitched with breaths shallow, asked.

Arthur complied, even though he wasn’t exactly sure if whatever he was going to do would work, or even what he was doing. But he made an attempt, even though for all he knew, it would only make Merlin’s condition worse. “So, I don’t think Wolverine has fire powers. You seem more of a Jean Grey type to me, you know, hidden dark side and all of that?”

“Does that mean you’re Wolverine?” Merlin’s breathing seemed to become deeper as a laugh bubbled up over the phone. “I really hope you don’t kill me, in any case. Although if I do start to massacre our friends, I give you full permission to do whatever you can to stop me.”

“As if you would ever,” Arthur said, hoping that those words wouldn’t create a negative reaction. “But no, I’m Spiderman, remember? Just out of curiosity, why _am_ I Spiderman? Why’d you choose that one for me? I’ve always kind of wanted to know.”

“Well, I just thought, y’know, journalism,” Merlin said. “But that was before I knew you. Now that I do…you’re both sarcastic, for one. And you’d do anything to keep people safe. You help people.”

“That’s all superheroes, though,” Arthur said with light persistence. “I just…you’re more like Spiderman than me, with your secrets, your magic that saves people, and then you return to living a normal life. Or at least as normal as you can make it.”

“Maybe Spidey’s just my favorite,” he heard Merlin’s smile even through the miles between them, and Arthur had no choice but to grin as well.

* * *

 

“Arthur, do you have a – what’s the matter?”

“I’m not that obvious, am I?” Arthur asked, disgruntled. After making sure Merlin was at least in a semi-livable state, he had headed for the newspaper building, same as usual, and within five minutes of being there, was greeted by Leon’s head poking into his office with a concerned look. “What did you need?”

“I just wanted to know if you’d seen Gwen yet,” Leon said, striding fully into the room without invitation and dropping into the seat across the desk. Arthur, with a glare and then a sigh, shuffled away his work to give Leon his full attention. “She’s usually here quite early. But you look – ill, almost.”

“Maybe I am ill,” Arthur said with a snarky, exasperated eye roll. “Not everything in this town has a dark, secret explanation.”

“What do you mean?”

Leon looked so concerned that Arthur wanted to choke him for being such a good person. “Nothing, Leon, it’s all good.”

“Arthur…”

He knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“I got a job offer,” Arthur started on an impulse. “In London. I took it. And now I feel terrible about it.”

Understanding dawned on Leon’s face, and Arthur’s gut twisted at the lie. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. The job was definitely a part of the warring, stewing feelings inside of him. Every piece of his life in this town was, really. He didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of ever leaving Albion made him feel sick.

“Is it because of Gaius? Because he’ll understand,” Leon said softly, reassuringly. “He’ll be absolutely fine. He’ll miss you, of course, we all will, but he’ll understand.”

“It’s not Gaius,” Arthur said shortly. “Well, maybe it’s a bit Gaius, but not all. And – you’ll miss me?”

“Obviously,” Leon said as if it was the easiest thing in the world, glancing at Arthur incredulously. “You’re my friend, Arthur – and not just mine. Everyone’s going to miss you. We’ll have to celebrate tonight, though – it’s a good job, isn’t it?”

“Columnist at Camelot Times.”

Leon’s eyes widened. “Very good, then. Gwen will definitely be jealous. She loves it here, but she’d take a job at Camelot in a heartbeat.”

“Sounds like me,” Arthur said before cursing himself. He just admitted that he actually did love this town, loved it quite a bit, that it was more of a home than anywhere else had ever been before.

“Is it…is it about Merlin?” Leon seemed quieter this time, hesitant, expressions on his face battling each other as if an intense debate of whether or not to suggest the idea had occurred. Arthur’s face must have given him away, as it seemed to quite often, and Leon quickly said “He’s leaving, too, him and Lancelot. Not that you didn’t already know that, but…if that’s what the matter here is really.”

“It’s not Merlin,” Arthur lied through his teeth. “I just…It’s hard for me to admit that I actually will miss it here. I was determined not to like this town, never wanted to come in the first place, but now…”

Leon chuckled. “Same thing happened to me. I grew up in Brighton, got a job here when I was just past twenty. I hated it at first, but then – well, then there was Gwen. She made this place worthwhile for me.”

“Exactly how long have you been in love with her?” Arthur asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“Longer than I care to admit,” Leon said, Arthur responding with a short bark of laughter. “I think – Merlin did the same for you, didn’t he?”

The smile dropped off of Arthur’s face and he didn’t respond.

Because he didn’t need to.

* * *

 

“Here’s to Arthur Pendragon, soon to abandon us lowly small town folk for the great big city! We’ll try to miss the prat, but it’ll truly be difficult to miss a face as ugly as his!”

“Cheers, Gwaine,” Arthur rose a glass as he held in a spurt of laughter. “Beautiful speech, really. I’m so honored.”

“As you should be,” Gwaine smashed his own glass exuberantly against Arthur’s, letting liquid spill out of both of them. True to Leon’s word, a party of sorts was occurring that night at the Gwaine’s pub, where their gracious host had insisted on breaking out a bottle of their finest scotch, for which Arthur was touched, but also slightly worried that Gwaine had poisoned it.

Arthur’s news had been greeted with many hugs and congratulations from all of his friends here, including a few tears from Gwen, for which he had been surprised yet humbled by. He hadn’t realized that he had made any sort of effect on anyone here – other than Merlin, of course.

Merlin had lingered in the background for much of the party, drinking his own scotch and smiling whenever Arthur met his eyes, even though both of them knew it was a sham, that there were many emotions hidden behind Merlin’s ever-present mask, but none of them would cause him to smile like that.

When the group broke up just before midnight, everyone heading for home, as the next day was Friday and there was still work to be done before the week was over, Arthur finally took his opportunity to snag Merlin’s arm on the way out the door, making sure that the two of them were at an even pace as they headed down the street.

“Don’t, Arthur,” Merlin held up a hand in protest as they walked. “I know. I have no right to be upset. I told you when we first – when we first – two months. That was the deal. Two months and two months only. It’s really only right that we stick to that.”

“Merlin –” Arthur stopped short, turning to look at his friend with an expression of incredulity. “No. No fucking way are you going to do that to me.”

“What do you –” Merlin’s voice turned puzzled and Arthur could have punched him for being so oblivious.

“Merlin, if you don’t ever want to see me or hear from me again after I leave, after you leave, then that’s your choice,” Arthur said. “But if you think for one goddamn minute that you’re making that decision for _me_ – well then, you’re even more arrogant than I thought.”

“I don’t – I don’t understand.”

“You never do,” Arthur sighed helplessly, wondering how on earth Merlin had even managed to survive for this long on his own. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If you don’t write to me, then I am going to personally fly to Afghanistan in order to beat some sense into you.”

A real smile grew on Merlin’s face, and there may have been a couple of pinpricks of tears in the corners of his eyes as well, a fact that Arthur would probably mock him for later, but right now, he was just relieved that his point had gotten through Merlin’s thick skull. “Well then, I’d better get started on those letters the second I get there.”

“Damn right you better.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!

That night wasn’t the last going away party Arthur was forced to suffer through. When he eventually broke the news to Gaius that he would be leaving – it had been taken with just a smile and a comment of how sorry Gaius was that they hadn’t had a chance to further his work, but happy that he had at least spent time there and that he was grateful for it, which Arthur was highly relieved about – the elder man had insisted on having a staff get-together in an attempt to give him a goodbye a little over a week after the first party.

Which in the end, resulted in Arthur, Gwen, and Leon sitting in the staff room drinking coffee, just as they did every day; only this time there were a few limp balloons bobbing up and down in the corner, helium in them fading slowly in nothingness.

“Do you have a flat in London yet?” Gwen asked him as she sipped on her drink, feet casually curled up against Leon’s lap.

“Yep,” Arthur responded, wishing he could just go home and get this day over with. It had been long, tiring, and he hadn’t seen Merlin once. The other man had been very good at keeping a steady distance between them since the last party, and although they still talked, it really wasn’t the same. “A nicer one than I had in uni, thankfully, and close to Camelot.”

“That’s nice,” she smiled. “You’ll have to tell us all about it. You will call, won’t you? Everyone will be very upset if you don’t. We might have to take a road trip to London, every single one of us, and come and invade your brand new life, which you wouldn’t like one bit.”

“I’d love it,” Arthur found himself saying with a growing grin. If only he could somehow bring his life here to London…but that was impossible, completely impossible, it would do him no good to dwell on hopeless dreams like that.

He didn’t continue his train of thought, so Leon picked up the conversation’s slack. “I know you probably know already, but Merlin and Lancelot are leaving on Friday.”

It was Tuesday. Today was technically Arthur’s last day working for Gaius, for the next week would be spent packing his things and attempting to get out of his lease early. He would be leaving on Saturday, the day after Merlin, and his first day at Camelot would be the following Monday.

He wasn’t entirely sure his feeling on the matter, other than that he didn’t want Merlin to go.

Of course, he didn’t particularly want Lancelot to go either, but he had other people to worry about him, mainly Freya. And he would be finished with his duty by the next summer, when he would return to England for good and get his picture perfect happy ending. Merlin, on the other hand, was still considering going back for another year or two.

They’d had a conversation about this, the two of them, a few nights ago over a bottle of whiskey that had been traded back and forth between them for an hour or so while the rest of their friends had a spirited debate about wedding decorations. Arthur had asked why the hell he would want to keep going back, if he would keep it up for the rest of his life – and Merlin said he didn’t know.

He wanted to help people, he said, help people with the gift she had been granted with. He didn’t know a better way to do it than go to the places where he was needed most, where people needed aid more than anything. Arthur had made a multitude of other, less dangerous suggestions, like missionary work or, even better, a children’s hospital, but Merlin had been adamant about the army.

His stubbornness on the subject was going to drive Arthur mad, he was absolutely certain.

That was, if Merlin and his migraine-inducing personality traits hadn’t already caused Arthur to tumble headfirst off the cliff.

“I know,” he answered Leon after a moment, and tried not to let out a sigh. “There’s going to be yet another party; isn’t there?”

“Of course,” Leon laughed, but it was seemingly more forced than any happier emotion, and Gwen’s smile had turned nervous, almost strained, as her eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them with trepidation. “Thursday night at Lance’s place. You’re coming, right?”

“We’re meeting somewhere other than Gwaine’s nasty pub?” Arthur tried to joke. It probably failed, as even he could hear the dread filtering through his tone. “I have to be witness to such a miraculous event. It may never happen again in all of human history.”

“Shut up, we’re not that predictable.” Leon, apparently, was going for the same tactic of avoiding actually mentioning what they were actually talking about.

Gwen, however, ruined their façade, interrupting with an irritated snap. “Oh, honestly, just talk plainly or stop speaking altogether! Arthur, are you going to be okay with attending Merlin’s going away party or do you want us to make an excuse for your absence? We will. We can say you’re sick or something.”

Arthur frowned at her, hesitating before questioning the logic of her offer. “…Why is that necessary?” 

“Because you’re in love with him and don’t want him to go?”

Any semblance of keeping up pretenses slipped off of Arthur’s face and he glared unrelentingly at Gwen, who turned a shade of crimson.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Arthur,” she put a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t seem to stop her from rambling on and on. “I just – I don’t mean to assume or anything, but a lot of the time, it really seems like you are.

“Which is all great, I’m happy for you – Except for, well, neither of you are staying here, and Merlin’s never really been all that great at the whole keeping in contact thing, even with us. I’m just worried about you – both of you. You’re kind of…leaving each other behind, if you know what I mean, and I wish you wouldn’t. One of you should come out of this with at least some form of closure. ”

“And what you’re suggesting would bring us closure how, exactly?” Arthur fought to control his voice as a tumulus shower of emotions raged through him, everything from anger to frustration to gratefulness to overwhelming sadness.

“I just – I don’t want both of you to be miserable,” Gwen struggled to continue on, and Leon was gazing at her concernedly while Arthur’s grip was hard-iron against the table in front of him, knuckles turning white. “If you didn’t have to see him again, if you could just leave…I don’t know, I just thought it might help.”

“Apparently everyone has decided that they’re making my decisions for me,” Arthur growled as he shoved his coffee cup across the table. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be there.”

The subject was changed without another word about the party, Merlin, or whether or not Arthur was in love with him.

Arthur was an expert at denial anyway.

-

“To the country’s finest! Even if they are scraggly and boring and not nearly as fine as I am.”

Whoever put Gwaine in charge of the toast again was probably regretting it, but Arthur chuckled nonetheless, raising his glass before taking a longer than necessary swig. The house they had met in was small and homey, apparently left to Lance when his mother died, and it was a far sight nicer than the bar, even if it was far less comfortable.

Arthur was going to miss that goddamn pub. Not that he would ever tell Gwaine that, as his ego would be boosted about fifteen times higher than normal, a truly terrifying idea.

Everyone else found Gwaine’s toast humorous, too, apparently, for raucous laughter greeted it, even from Lancelot and Merlin, who were in the center of the room. Arthur’s stomach twisted in dread every time he met Merlin’s eyes, knowing that tonight was going to be the last time they would see each other in quite a while. Arthur had suggested that he get up early in the morning to see Merlin off, but his offer had been gently refuted.

“How about a toast to our brave boys instead?” Freya suggested, raising her glass yet again as she leaned into Lancelot’s side. Arthur was almost jealous of her in that moment, for at least she knew that Lance would try to come back to her if he could. Arthur had no such promise from Merlin.

Her statement was met with a chorus of “Hear, hear!” and Arthur had no choice but to gulp down more of his drink – not that he was complaining about that. Alcohol seemed like the only viable solution for making it through then night in one piece.

“You alright?”

An unprecedented amount of time later, Merlin dropped against the wall next to Arthur. The party, or, really, just a gathering, as it was only their usual group, was thinning out – Gwen and Leon had already headed for home after hugging both Merlin and Lance tight, and it seemed like Lance was itching to get the rest of them out, even if he was far too polite to ever say a word about it.

Without waiting for Arthur to respond, Merlin said “Come with me. Let’s say our goodbyes, and then come with me. Please.”

The please was what really what sealed the deal, even though Arthur would have followed him anyway. He had been expecting, or really, hoping, to say goodbye to Merlin away from the crowds, not for any particular reason, but just to make the affair private and entirely theirs, not anyone else’s.

So after Arthur clapped Lance on the back with a wish of luck and Merlin was hugged tightly by both Freya and Gwaine, the two of them were out in the darkness together, cold beginning to settle into the summer night; technically, summer morning, the clock having struck midnight mere minutes ago.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Arthur’s car parked next to Merlin’s on the street, and Merlin followed in suit when Arthur leaned against his.

“I don’t know what to say,” Merlin said after a moment, his fingers lightly tapping against the vehicle mere inches from Arthur’s own. “I – I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye.”

“Then don’t,” Arthur suggested. “It’s just a see you later, right?”

“God, I hope so,” Merlin sighed.

Arthur lifted his head, regarding Merlin’s darkened profile with curiosity. His eyes were downcast, his arms crossed, a joking, sardonic smile nowhere near his features. “…You mean that?”

“Course I do,” Merlin’s hand reached forward hesitantly, freezing just before meeting Arthur’s as if he was waiting for permission. Arthur didn’t wait, just grabbed his surprisingly warm fingers tightly. It occurred to him that they might be about to light on fire – this was emotional, after all – but it just made him want to grip on tighter, keep Merlin rooted in reality. “Arthur…I – I don’t know when I’ll be back. But I promise I’ll let you know. Even if you don’t want to see me again at that point, I’ll still make sure you know.”

“I’ll want to see you,” Arthur promised, knowing that it was the absolute truth. With a surprising burst of courage, he began to speak again.

“Merlin – I – I just want you to know –” Arthur was stumbling over his words now, and swallowing thickly, said, “That I’ll miss you. And that you better write. Often as you can.”

Merlin nodded and Arthur saw his friend’s eyes watering up and desired to either wipe them away or perhaps tease him a bit, but he did neither. Instead, he wrapped a hand around Merlin’s neck, the other around his waist, and held on tightly.

It took a second, but Merlin began to hug back, a firm hand around Arthur’s waist and another tangled in his hair, and Arthur sighed into his shoulder.

“I – I’m going to explode,” Merlin managed to choke out into Arthur’s ear. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Just one more moment,” Arthur whispered, not willing to let him go just yet. “Please. I don’t care.”

Merlin’s voice was shaky, but it was still there. “Okay.”

When they broke apart just a few seconds later, Merlin’s features were tight and his hands were trembling. Arthur could almost feel the heat that was certainly issuing out of them.

“I have to go,” Merlin whispered.

“Wait,” Arthur said and leaned forward, trying not to touch him, and pressed a hesitant kiss onto Merlin’s cheek. He felt Merlin exhale slowly and he pulled back, unsure if the gesture was appreciated.

Merlin smile was mournful, but he _was_ smiling, an accomplishment in of itself. Arthur refrained from reaching out again, even though he wanted nothing more than to do so. “Good luck in London. I’ll write.”

That was the last they spoke before parting ways. Arthur decidedly did not cry once. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, ahhh! Also, this is really cute. Like, really, really cute. I think it's making up for the angst of previous chapters. Hope you like it!

London, Arthur found, was lonelier than he remembered.

After Merlin’s quiet departure the next day, Arthur disappeared the following morning, after a pat on the back from Gaius and hugs from each of his friends, all of whom had come to see him off, which he appreciated. He really was going to miss them. Gwen’s face was even stained with tears, and Arthur was sure to hold her tighter than the others.

With Gwaine’s parting advice of “Don’t fuck up or else you’ll end up back here with us losers!” Arthur left Albion behind.

He still loved London, of course, that hadn’t changed. He enjoyed the business, the hustling crowds, how everything came to life. But he was left missing small parts of Albion, too, like his little cottage and the lake that lay behind it, the way everyone knew who everyone was, how he would be greeted in a shop by name, Gwaine’s horridly decorated pub with even worse service, and the comfortableness of his workspace with Gaius.

Camelot was all that he had dreamed of and more, he loved what he did. He found that being a columnist was actually quite fun, getting to write about what he pleased, although he was still slightly envious of his higher-ups and their positions writing headlining news stories. Still, he could get there eventually, if he really tried.

He didn’t particularly like his new boss, however; Annis was coolly detached, and although competent, lacked Gaius’s quirky charm that Arthur had grown to appreciate during his time in Albion.

Friendships were another matter entirely. Arthur had managed to catch up with quite a few of his mates from uni, who he was glad to see again, but there was a distinct absence of something with them, something instrumental that Arthur couldn’t quite place.

There was no Gwen, no bubbly optimism coupled with a smile for everyone.

There was no Leon, no kind words and gentle nature, always knowing exactly what needed saying and what needed hearing.

There was no Freya, no teasing comments and a happiness to spread around.

There was no Lancelot, no decent humanity with nothing negative to say about anyone.

There was no Gwaine, no dirty innuendos with horrible jokes and even worse toasts to match.

There was no Merlin.

No sarcastic jibes, no secret grins, no reading Arthur like he was an open book, no hidden darkness behind a brilliant smile, no magic.

There was no League of Superheroes, and Arthur found he missed that part of him more than anything else. Except perhaps for Merlin.

Arthur was aware that he was moping, but he was allowed to. His sort-of kind-of not-really boyfriend was overseas in Afghanistan, so worry and sadness was entirely justified. He had three letters from Merlin so far, though, and those were what kept him going more than anything, reassurance that Merlin was safe and hadn’t erupted in a shower of flames yet.

_Arthur – As you can see, I am writing, so you can stay in London and not come out here and pummel me, which you can be sure is extremely appreciated on my part. How’s the new job? I bet you’re absolutely brilliant…_

_Arthur – Sorry for the wait, we’ve been pretty busy here, but I’m really glad you wrote back. I miss you. And everyone else. Lance says hi, by the way…_

_Arthur – We’re all good over here. Well, as good as you can be in a war-zone. Had to watch a couple of kids die a few days ago, so I’m not in the best of shapes. I haven’t killed myself yet, or anyone else, since I know you’re probably far too worried about that…_

_Arthur – Thanks for writing to me…_

_Arthur –_

Arthur was beyond grateful for those scraps of comfort, even though they weren’t nearly enough to appease his worry or his need for Merlin to be near. He had gotten used to seeing his friend every single day, without fail, and now he was suffering from some sort of Merlin withdrawal, like he had been an intoxicating drug that left Arthur desperate and just a little bit broken.

It didn’t help that he was around people that didn’t know Merlin, didn’t who he was or why he was so important to Arthur; they didn’t know how special he was.

He kept in contact with his friends in Albion, though, and talking to Gwen and Leon on a near weekly basis, through speaker phone conversations in Leon’s house that Gwen had practically moved in to now, did help him. They reminded him that his life there had been real and not just some sort of crazy dream he had concocted.

Still, they didn’t understand. They had each other. They were happy.

Arthur hadn’t been the one to call Freya first. She had called him nearly two weeks after he left.

“Hello?”

“Arthur? It’s Freya.”

“Oh! Hi, then. How are you?”

“Not so great. Do you have time to talk?”

“Erm…I guess. Sure you don’t want to ring up Leon or something? He’s probably better at comforting than I am. Although I’m definitely a better choice in confidant than Gwaine.”

“No, no, it has to be you.”

“…Okay, alright. What is it?”

“Do you miss him? Do you miss him like I miss Lance?”

“That…that isn’t really a fair comparison. Lance is your fiancé –”

“Just answer the question, Arthur.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I probably do.”

Since then, Freya dialed him up regularly. She usually started up the conversation with a slew of complains about work or humorous stories that usually involved Gwaine, but they almost always spiraled off into the topic of Merlin and Lancelot. It felt good to talk to her, even if she did do the vast majority of the speaking. Arthur just listened, and he knew that they understood each other.

 The life that Arthur had outside of his flat, his letters and phone conversations, was mostly spent trying to pretend that aspect of him didn’t exist, that he was happy and healthy and thrilled to be back in the city.

Apparently, his ruse wasn’t as fool-proof as he would have liked, though.

 Morgana had always been able to see right through his lies, though.

He had barely thought of his sister all through his time in Albion, and for good reason. The two of them were never close, and after she had that disastrous falling out with their father last year, they had barely said three words to each other.

It took him entirely by surprise when she appeared at his front door one blustery afternoon in late October. Arthur had just gotten off of work and, upon checking his mailbox, found a letter from Merlin waiting for him. He had just put the kettle on and was about to break the seal on it when there was a loud, rapping knock at his front door.

He sighed and cursed under his breath, thinking it to be a package or perhaps his father here for one of the father-son dinners that Uther liked to spring upon him every once in a while. When he saw Morgana, though, with her perfectly coiffed hair and raised eyebrows, he just stared.

And kept staring for about ten more seconds.

“Hello to you, too, little brother,” Morgana breezed past him into the flat without as much as an invitation. “Thank you ever so much for not telling me you that were back in town.”

“I forgot,” Arthur said with a shrug as he shut the door with a slam behind her. She had already begun to make herself at home in the kitchen, sitting on one of his barstools and pouring herself a cup of tea. Luckily, she poured one for him as well, which he took gratefully as he slumped into the seat next to hers. “So sorry I don’t keep you informed on every aspect of my life.”

“No need to be tetchy, but I like be aware of these things, as you know,” Morgana gave him a look as she sipped from her glass. Arthur gritted his teeth in preparation for her and her meddling ways that were sure to come. He clutched Merlin’s letter tightly in his palm, promising himself that if he managed to make it through this, he would at least have the note to look forward to. “So, how was small-town life? Boring and lifeless – just like you?”

“You think you’re so clever,” Arthur made a childish face as he fell back into their usual routine of sniping at each other for long periods of time until one of the other of them eventually just gave in and stormed out of the room sulking, followed by a period of time in which they wouldn’t speak. They lasted anywhere from ten minutes to two years, depending on just how pissed off they managed to make each other. “It was fine.”

“Fine? That’s it? That’s all I get?” Morgana raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Arthur. I know it must have been dull, but you can do better than _fine_.”

“What more do you want me to say?” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. This was why he never particularly enjoyed sibling bonding with Morgana. “It was brilliant, I had a fine time, I wish I still lived there?”

Morgana stared at him for a half a second before starting to laugh. Putting a hand over her mouth to cover her giggles, she managed to say “That’s all true, isn’t it? The great and might Arthur Pendragon, born and raised Londoner, would rather be in the middle of nowhere than here? Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

“Chained him up in the bathroom,” Arthur smiled sardonically. “I’m his evil clone.”

Morgana took another minute to get all of her snorts out, which Arthur allowed sullenly. When she finally cleared up, she asked “So, who are they?”

“Who is who?”

“The person,” Morgana said like it was obvious and Arthur was a fool for not realizing it. When he looked at her expectantly, she clarified “The person that you’re thinking about. You met someone there didn’t you? I can see it in your ridiculously big, sad eyes. You met someone and you’re mooning over them.”

“Did not,” Arthur scoffed, laughing nervously. Damn Morgana and her immense talents of perception. “I have no clue what you’re even talking.”

“Arthur, just give me a name,” she looked at him pityingly. “You know I’ll poke and pry until I find one anyway. It’s best just to give in now.”

Arthur hated it when she was right.

“Merlin,” he puffed out a sigh as he glared at her. “His name’s Merlin.”

Morgana grinned in victory.

By the time Arthur managed to shepherd her out of his flat, she had also learned Merlin’s last name, his position in the military, and quite a few of embarrassingly soppy details about how exactly Arthur felt about him.

She may have been a nuisance, but she was good at what she did. That fact was irrefutable.

Thankfully, she didn’t stay more than an hour, leaving Arthur to rip open Merlin’s letter with hopes and prayers that he was still fine, that his fire hadn’t harmed him or anyone else.

_Arthur –_

_I feel like I should open these letters with something better than just your name. ‘Dear Arthur’ sounds very wrong and cliché, though. ‘My Arthur’ seems overly sentimental and also so cheesy I feel like groaning. Maybe I should start with ‘Spiderman’ from now on. It suits you, don’t you think?_

_So here goes._

_Spiderman –_

_Your letters are the best part of my day, I swear. I get them from the others, too, of course – Gwaine writes nearly as often as you do, although his notes aren’t nearly as good. They’re mainly loud complaints about how he’s bored because I’m not around. But anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that I miss you loads and these letters make me feel like I at least have a little piece of you here with me._

_I’m glad of that._

_I also remain fireless. Well, for the most part. Sometimes I really can’t control it at all. But I think exposure to you has toughened me up a little bit. Imagine that, you bring me more emotional trauma than a warzone. Aren’t you special?_

_I know you’re probably having a brilliant time back in London, with your fancy job. Bet you’ve got boys and girls on both your arms. And why shouldn’t you? I don’t know if you realized it, but I’m kind of a shitty boyfriend. If I ever really was your boyfriend. And if I were you, I’d take up with one of those models or actors that I’m sure London is full of._

_I don’t really know, actually. I’ve never been to London. I wish I was there with you now, though._

_If you haven’t already forgotten about me, I might be back around Christmastime. I shall lodge a formal declaration that I would like to spend it with you._

_If you’ll have me._

_– Merlin (or Wolverine, whichever you prefer)_

Arthur penned down a reply immediately, knowing he would send it off in the morning.

_Wolverine –_

_You are a sap. Of epic proportions._

_If my letters didn’t improve your life even slightly, I would be very concerned. I am quite amazing, after all. And of course I outrank Gwaine, everyone outranks Gwaine. Although I do think he misses you quite a bit. I get drunken texts from him sometimes where he talks about how much he misses you._

_I suspect he’s mooning._

_London actually isn’t all that brilliant, when you think about it. I mean, sure, there’s lots of people, and cars, and the Tube, and Camelot, but it’s still just a city. And I have no boys or girls on my arms, not even one. It’s pathetic, really._

_I wish you were here, too._

_And I’m not sure how you already have time off again, but if you come back to England and don’t spend Christmas with me, I might actually kill you._

_Be afraid. Be very afraid._

_– Spiderman (which I definitely prefer over Arthur)_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Oh my God. I'm having difficulty handling this, it's the first multi-chap story I've completed. Thank you so much, everyone that read and enjoyed. It's been great, and I hope it has for you, too. I hope you enjoy the last chapter!

Arthur wasn’t getting his hopes up about Christmas.

In all honesty, he was trying not to think about it too much, preparing himself for the inevitable disappointment that was to come when Merlin most likely could not make it. He was almost positive that it wasn’t going to happen, that Merlin was just hopeful about something with the slimmest of all possibilities, even though he desperately wanted his friend to come home.

But if he was coming back, why would he come to London and not to Albion? Why would he spend the holidays with Arthur when he could be with Gaius and Alice and the rest of his friends?

Arthur squashed the voices in his head that told him their reasoning, because they were overly sentimental fools that needed to shut up and stop thinking up embarrassingly sappy notions.

He wasn’t sure how Merlin would even have the option of time off after his summer away, but when Merlin’s next letter came, just two weeks before the holiday itself, the news read took Arthur by surprise.

It was a short letter, far too short, and it made Arthur wonder and also panic just a tiny bit, because if Merlin wasn’t oversharing information, he might be keeping secrets again, which was the last thing Arthur wanted. Cautiously, he read the few hastily scribbled sentences.

_Spiderman –_

_I’ll be there on the twenty-third. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Hope you were serious about me spending Christmas with you._

_Wolverine_

Arthur just stared for a few seconds before he began to chuckle under his breath, weakly at first, but growing steadily louder, echoing in his empty flat.

Leave it to Merlin to be as vague and secretive as possible.

However, Arthur, loathe as he was to admit it, was completely used to it. There was an even a part of him that enjoyed it. Merlin wouldn’t be Merlin without a slew of information that he wasn’t willing to give until the last possible second.

* * *

 

As the twenty-third grew closer, Arthur decidedly did not enjoy Merlin’s lack of details about his upcoming visit, though. In fact, it frustrated him endlessly. Merlin had never even been to London before, therefore having no idea where Arthur lived or how to navigate himself there, hadn’t given Arthur any flight details or exactly how he was traveling there, how long his break was for, or even if Merlin would be there at all.

All he had was a stupid, two-lined letter that he cursed on daily basis.

And then cursed Merlin, too, just for good measure, because all of this was his fault.

He hadn’t brought up Merlin’s return with any of their friends. He avoided the subject purposefully, mainly because he didn’t want any tension between them or let them believe that he was monopolizing Merlin’s time, as he had known all of them much longer than he had Arthur. There was also the issue of the fact that Merlin’s less than stellar information had left out the fact of Lancelot coming back or not, and Arthur desired avoiding that particular conversation with Freya.

So he silently panicked to himself in the week before Christmas, hoping that everyone’s interest in him would pass by without incessant questionings, specifically in the form of Morgana, who was as annoyingly persistent as ever about Arthur’s hardly existent love life.

Luckily, she had absolutely no desire to spend the holidays with him and therefore wouldn’t be questioning his plans or his motives. He also hadn’t spent a Christmas with his father since he was eighteen, so there was no obligation whatsoever to head back to the frigidly cold Uther and his manor estate.

Arthur hadn’t spent Christmas with another human being in years. Merlin, in his infuriatingly wonderful way, would change that, too.

That was, if he even showed up in the first place.

Arthur still wasn’t entirely counting on it. Merlin wasn’t the most trustworthy person, or reliable, and he was an expert and lying or at least ducking and dodging from the truth. He would love to believe that Merlin was coming, but he still couldn’t quite believe it.

So when he woke up on the morning of the twenty-third, stumbling out of his bedroom haphazardly wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else, hair ruffled and pace unsteady and having a desperate need for a cup of a highly caffeinated beverage, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Merlin sitting on his couch.

“Surprise?”

“I – you – Merlin –” Arthur suddenly found that his mouth wasn’t working properly. He stood in the entryway and stared at Merlin with utmost shock. Merlin smiled nervously up at him as he brought himself into a standing position, cautiously making his way across the distance between them. “Door – key – how did you – how are you –?”

Merlin’s cheeks turned pink, but he was still grinning. “Magic, of course. Also how I found your place, by the way. And made it here in the first place. See, magic is actually quite useful every once in a while; it’s not just for setting fires, blowing up buildings, and causing me to go insane.”

“You – you,” Arthur was at a complete and utter loss for words, having been taken totally off his guard. “You are – you – I need a cup of coffee before I can start to process this.”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, gesturing into the kitchen. “I know I kind of barged in unexpectedly. I just kind of wanted to surprise you.”

“You succeeded,” Arthur told him briefly before stumbling into the kitchen, clumsy hands that still weren’t quite awake scrambling to start the coffee maker. Merlin followed him, leaning against the doorframe between Arthur and the couch. He looked healthy, normal even; the only thing that seemed different was that he was in green camouflage. Had he just only arrived, then? But that didn’t make any sense.

He decided to wait and ask questions once his brain was awake and functioning. Merlin seemed content to wait, and once Arthur had poured himself a nearly overflowing cup of coffee and chugged down half of it, he began.

“Would you care to explain – everything? Because I’m kind of at a loss here, and I don’t particularly enjoy the feeling.”

“Well,” Merlin stepped fully into the kitchen and, without an invitation, made himself at home in one of Arthur’s chairs. Arthur almost smiled as he slid into the one opposite him. “Before I say anything else, you should know that I’m technically breaking the law right now.”

“Erm,” Arthur regarded him warily, unease growing. “How?”

“I’m not actually here,” Merlin said. “Or, well, I’m not actually in Afghanistan.”

“I realize that you’re not in Afghanistan,” Arthur sat up straighter, noticing that Merlin’s eyes were shifty, never looking at him directly. “What do you mean about not being _here_?”

“I kind of – created a copy of myself,” Merlin mumbled, looking down. “A copy that is currently in Afghanistan with Lancelot and the rest of my squad, talking with them and interacting and existing like it’s me. But it’s not. Because I’m here with you.”

“You – created a _copy_?” Arthur’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Not a carbon copy,” Merlin placated him, but Arthur was not reassured in the slightest. “It just looks like me and acts like me, it’s just not actually me. It’s a complicated bit of magic, very complex, very detailed, but it should hold up for at least a week. Lancelot might get suspicious, but he’s the only one that has any chance of catching me. And besides, who would believe that I could be in two places at once?”

“No sane person,” Arthur replied, because he was still processing and didn’t exactly trust himself to say anything else.

“Exactly,” Merlin shook a finger emphatically at him. “So therefore, here I am. And I’d appreciate it if we didn’t call Gaius and Freya and our happy little bunch, because I’m sure they’d have lots of questions that I wouldn’t feel like answering.”

“I didn’t…say anything to them about it before,” Arthur chose his phrasings carefully. “I wasn’t entirely sure if you were going to come or not.”

“I said I would, wouldn’t I?” Merlin’s smile was half sunny and half sad as he gazed at Arthur with affectionate eyes. “I may not be the greatest boyfriend in the world, but I said I’d be here, and here I am.”

“Boyfriend?” Arthur’s lips quirked upward, remembering one of Merlin’s last letters where he’d used the word ‘boyfriend’ in a similar context.

“I mean, if you want us to be,” Merlin blushed as he fiddled with his fingers. “I know we kind of didn’t work out in that way before, but we could try again, properly, and I’ll actually be honest with you this time around.”

“I wish we could be,” Arthur began, setting down his coffee as he tried not to sigh. “But you’re still in the military, and I’m still here in London. I’m thrilled to see you, I really am, but how would we ever make that work?”

“It’d be hard,” Merlin admitted, letting a hand dangle on the table, reaching out hesitantly for Arthur’s own, letting nothing but their fingertips touch. “Really hard. But if I come back in May with Lancelot, if I stay in England…permanently…I’ve been thinking about it, staying. And I think I want to. I want to live an actual life, I want to – I want you. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Arthur looked up at him through incredulous eyes.

“Because I can’t think about how much I want you without bursting into flames,” Merlin’s eyes broke away, staring determinedly at the linoleum floor, and Arthur was met with a fierce desire to yank his head back up. “Without setting you on fire. And I don’t ever, ever want you to get hurt, let alone have me be the one that hurts you.”

“Merlin, you can’t just – you can’t just avoid people, avoid relationships, and think that it’s going to make everything okay,” Arthur reasoned, although his mind was still catching up with his mouth. “You have to at least try to be happy.”

“Which is why I’m here now,” Merlin smiled, eyes flickering up for a brief moment. “Arthur, I…I am catastrophically in love with you. I’m not great at big speeches, or declarations, or anything like that, but I thought you should at least be made aware. And I haven’t been thinking about it too much, thinking about you too much, because it hurts. And I’m just – I’m rambling now. Just say something. Please. I don’t care what, just say something.”

If Arthur was struggling to find words before, they had all died out of him at the same time as his breath. He was almost positive that he hadn’t taken in any oxygen since Merlin had said the word ‘love’.

He had avoided that word, avoided thinking about it since Merlin had left, since he realized how his heart and molded around Merlin’s little place in it, a place that felt empty and hollow with him gone, but he didn’t have Merlin’s excuse for it. He just hadn’t even wanted to consider the notion.

Arthur had been in love before, or at least he thought he had, and this felt nothing like it. The first time, the time after, they felt good, they made him feel warm and sated. With Merlin, he felt like his entire universe could be ripped apart in a single day, that he could be torn to shreds without a second’s warning, that everything felt so wrong and out of place but in the most beautiful, breathtaking way possible.

It was like an extremely vivid, half-terrifying dream, one that left him feeling more alive than anything that a world outside of his head could offer.

And yet here Merlin was, staring at him with unrestrained fear and nerves coupled with a kind of deep affection that Arthur wasn’t accustomed to in the slightest.

“Merlin, I’m no good at speeches either,” Arthur said, not knowing exactly what words were coming next. There were so many that deserved saying, so many that _needed_ saying, and he didn’t know which should come first, if it all. “Or feelings, emotions…guess we have that in common. But I – I love you. And I’m not particularly sorry about it.”

Merlin looked like he’d just had the floor swept out from underneath him, his eyes widening nearly comically as his eyes met Arthur’s fully. “You – really? I mean – _really_?”

“Really,” Arthur smiled. “And I want to work this out. I want us to…try this for real. See if we can pull it off without…you know…”

“Me killing you?” Merlin’s smile turned sardonic, but Arthur had a keen awareness of the how serious the statement actually was to him.

“Or me killing you,” Arthur said conversationally. “It could happen. You can be very annoying sometimes. I don’t know how I’ll put up with you.”

Merlin was hiding a grin, Arthur knew, because he was, too. And when Merlin leaned in to kiss him, soft, sweet and chaste, Arthur’s smile melted into their adjoined lips.

* * *

 

“So, you ran out on the army.”

“I did not _run out_. I’m still there.”

“Mmhmm, sure. Still, I think we have to revoke your superhero status. It’s not a very hero-like action to take.”

“Shut up. I’m very heroic.”

“But you’re no longer a superhero.”

“Fine, prat. I’ll be…I’ll be a Starfleet officer.”

“Oh, God, that figures.”

“What?”

“You.”

“If we were in Star Trek, you would definitely be Jean-Luc Picard and I…I would be Luke Skywalker.”

“Wrong franchise.”

“I don't care. Why can’t a Jedi Knight be a Starfleet officer?”

“You’re insane. I love you.”

“I know.”

“So you’re Han Solo now?”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”


End file.
